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Technofox 06

Instantly, Technofox sent an alarm through her implant. The implant flashed the message to her smartphone, and from there to the cell network, ordering the others to come to her. She paused to hop into her pants and armored jacket. She pulled her pistol out of the nightstand and ran out the door, barefoot. She slipped an earpiece on, and waited impatiently for it to connect to her phone. When it did, it automatically opened a conference call to the others.

"Technofox here," she said rapidly. "Walton just took a head shot in front of the condo. The shooter's above the seventh floor. I'm after him."

Technofox didn't expect a reply -- the message went to three voicemail boxes and it would play the moment when the others linked up -- the alert had no information beyond "come immediately to Technofox", and that could be anything from "I witnessed a crime" to "I am lying unconscious in a pool of my own blood." She opened the heavy metal fire door to the stairs and hesitated a moment: up or down? The first order of business was to seal the exits to the building. Security could do that. The shooter was somewhere above her. Ten stories in the building, so the killer was in one of three stories, or the roof.

She couldn't search the rooms; she could search the roof. She hit the stairs up at a run, the pattern in the folded metal staircase tickling the pads on her bare feet. Meanwhile, she cycled through different contact numbers, and selected one.

"Best Condo Security," came a very stressed voice. The thought struck her, suddenly: did she want to catch the sniper? Yes, she decided. She wasn't giving up a crack at 7.62.

"A man was shot in front of the building." Technofox said rapidly. "There's a sniper above the seventh floor. Seal the building, I'm looking for him on the roof."

"Who is this?"

Yes, she reflected, they would want to know that. "Technofox," she said. "Private security. ICON. Seal the doors and call the police."

"Is this your case?"

"I'm just a bystander," she said. Nobody would believe that, but it might be true. Wouldn't it be bizarre if this killing had nothing to do with 7.62?

It was obviously time to drop cover. At this point, with building security and the police called in, there was a good chance that running around like a maniac with a drawn gun would get her shot. It was much safer if the good guys knew who she was and that she was there. Just as bad, if it came out later that Foxforce was in the building it would raise questions about what they were trying to conceal.

"Two of you? Done," he said firmly. "Keep this connection open."

Two? Firefox must have checked in. Someone was below her. Running up. She spun and leveled her gun before she recognized the sound and pace.

"It's me, Fi," Technofox called down.

A voice came over her earpiece. "Shadowfox here. On my way."

"Roger that, Shadow," Firefox replied. "I'm on the scene."

Firefox rushed up the stairs, around the bend. "Pick up his trail?" Firefox asked. She was holding her .40 caliber, pointed up to the ceiling, finger off the trigger.

"Not yet," Technofox said. They had come to the same conclusion, and were carrying out the same tactics: go to the roof. "You check in with building security yet?"

"Of course," Firefox said, a bit impatiently. It was, Technofox realized, a silly question -- Security had said there were two of them.

Silverfox's chime sounded briefly. "Silverfox here. Stealing a car, be there soon. Shadow," Silver said, "Where are you? I can pick you up."

"No, you better rally," Shadowfox said. Her voice was a bit strained, as though she were running. She hadn't obtained motor transport yet.

Fire and Technofox were coming to the door to the roof. Fire paused, knelt, and sniffed. She shook her head slightly. Nobody had come that way recently.

"I'll break left," she said. "You go right."

"Got it," Technofox said, holding her pistol in both hands. Suddenly, her pistol felt very, very small. She wanted a submachine gun at least, or better, an automatic rifle. "Ready," she said.

Firefox was out through the door and Technofox followed her an instant later. The tar on the roof gave slightly under her weight; still too cool in the morning to soften and feel sticky. She didn't see anyone, but there was concealment. She inhaled and reflexively cut the breath short. Her sinus ached and her eyes watered, blurring her vision. Tear gas.

She hadn't taken a lungful, and she inhaled carefully. They were on the edge of the cloud. She turned right and walked slowly around the raised shack that housed the door to the staircase. Ventilators spun in the wind. She could hear the hissing of a tear gas grenade, at the edge of the roof on the front of the building. The wind was blowing the cloud away, instead of across the building and towards them. It was pretty vile, but bearable.

She almost walked into Firefox. They stepped around one another and covered one another's blind spots.

"Think the police are here?" Technofox asked.

"No chopper," Firefox replied.

And that's the only way they'd plant tear gas on the roof, Technofox thought.

"Blind spot behind the other door down," Firefox said. Technofox nodded, forgetting that Firefox couldn't see her.

"Right. Looks like the only concealment on the roof."

"Cover me," Firefox said.

Which was slightly silly -- Firefox was the better shot and had the better weapon. Technofox suddenly realized she only had five rounds in her pistol. Her two speed loaders were in the nightstand. She felt a moment of clammy panic.

Firefox went low and around the second stairwell, Technofox circling around to try to keep her in sight until she vanished behind the stair enclosure. A moment of heightened anxiety later, Firefox emerged from the far side. She looked at Technofox and then at the stairs.

"Chase him down?" Technofox asked. Two staircases, there were two of them -- although she didn't like the idea of splitting up. Especially since she only had five rounds on her.

Firefox hesitated a beat. "No rush," Firefox she said, surprising Technofox. She grinned. "The police will be coming up and I don't want to run into them unless they expect me."

Technofox nodded, dubiously. The tear gas was awful, and she was afraid the wind would shift. She wanted to get off the roof as soon as possible. What Firefox said sounded right, but --

Firefox frowned and peered around the roof. She looked at the plume of gas coming from the sputtering grenade, as though worrying about the same thing Technofox was worried about. She looked the other way. She froze. Technofox followed her gaze. There was a cable looped around the railing and going out over the back of the building.

Without a word, they moved together to the cable. It was a Kevlar zipline, like the one Technofox had used in Houston. It was too thin to climb barehanded, but it would support a ton and a spider - a motorized rappelling harness - could be used to go up or down the line. It was fun. She and Silver had composed a song called "Spider-Fox" which they sang lustily during training until Firefox threatened violence.

"This was attached by someone on the roof," Technofox said. It was clamped off, not hooked.

Cautiously, they looked over.

There was a body at the base of the building, dressed in black, rifle in a sling over his back.

Firefox tapped her earpiece. "Security? Firefox here. The shooter was on the roof. There is a tear gas grenade up here. Someone is laying down at the base of the building. It looks like he tried to use a line down and fell." She held out her phone and sent some video down.

She touched the mute button and looked at Technofox. She jerked a thumb at the body. "I am not believing this," she said.

Technofox nodded silently, in assent.

"Please hold until relieved," Security said.

"Roger," Firefox said immediately. She moved to the left, to give some seperation between herself and Technofox. They were bunching up a bit, Technofox realized; she crouched down and covered the body with her pistol. "You damn well better let the cops know there's two good guys on the roof with guns."

"They have been informed," Security assured them.

"Think he's alive?" Firefox asked.

"I'd bet no," Technofox replied. "Still..."

"Private Security," Firefox called down. "You are covered. Do not try to move or I will fire. The police are on their way." She set and aimed. One hundred feet straight down wasn't an easy shot with a pistol -- Technofox wished Silverfox were there.

"Funny he's not burst open," Technofox said.

"Not if he's playing possum, or he's armored," Firefox reminded her, not taking her eyes off her target.

"Right," Technofox said. She sighted down the barrel of the gun. If he were armored, a .357 probably wouldn't do much, not at thirty meters, but she might get lucky. At this range, she'd be lucky to hit him at all.

"Silverfox, Shadowfox," Firefox said. "Come around to the back of the building and see if you can pick up a trail."

"Negative," Security said immediately. "Don't taint the scene."

"Very well," Firefox said, gnashing her teeth. "Come behind the building and cover him."

"I'm pulling in now," Silverfox said. "I'll come around the east side."

After a few moments, Technofox could barely see Silverfox huddled around the corner on her side, guns drawn and covering the body. "I am in position."

"Police copter coming to the roof," said Security.

That made sense -- they were right on top of the airport, and SWAT probably had a team there ready for dustoff. Technofox could see the blue and white utility copter thrumming towards them now. It hovered over the roof, lines dropped, and black-armored police ziplined down to the roof. The air cleared as the wind from the blades pushed the teargas away.

"Shadow," Firefox said, "things seem to be winding down here. No rush."

"Right. I'll take the scooter back and call a cab."

Scooter? Technofox wondered if she was better off not knowing.

A SWAT man ran up next to Technofox, dropped to one knee, and started to raise an automatic rifle. He was armored and wore a gas mask and helmet; the only part of him that Technofox could see were two rings around blue eyes.

"Hey!" he blurted out. "They're fur jobs!"

Considering he had an automatic rifle, Technofox shouldn't have given him a look. But she did anyway.

"So you stole a car, girl?" the plainclothesman asked in a neutral voice.

"Yes, sir," Silverfox said politely. "A sniper was at large and my team was at risk."

"She means to say that there was a credible threat to human life," Firefox added. "We deeply regret the necessity. ICON will apologize and make restitution."

"That's what I meant to say, Lieutenant," Silverfox said with an innocent nod.

"Captain," he said. "Captain Bishop. And you couldn't get a cab?"

Technofox glanced up. Captains ran police stations; they didn't carry out investigations.

"That would have taken longer, sir."

Captain Bishop was a big man, heavy, the sort of build a man got after spending twenty years in overalls behind a service station lugging tires and engine parts. He was weather-beaten, with hair that looked like his wife cut it at home with clippers. His suit was cheap and probably several Presidents old. He smelled of a cologne his kids had probably bought him for his birthday.

They were in a conference room the condo made available. Their weapons were unloaded and on the table, slightly out of reach. Morgan, Technofox noticed, used a Colt .45 Magnum, a weapon that hadn't been made for ten years. It had to be very expensive and he probably used hand-loaded rounds. Technofox's revolver was sitting next to her multi-tool, because there was a cutting blade on it. Shadowfox's Gerber knife sat next to it.

"Right." Bishop looked at the weapons and quietly shook his head. "Y'all just happened to be carrying those?"

"No sir," Technofox replied. "Not always. Except the tool, of course."

"That would be illegal, sir," Firefox explained. "In Georgia, we can only carry if we expect to have use of them. Otherwise the weapons have to stay in our rooms."

"I am a licensed bodyguard and I was on duty," Morgan said.

"And Silverfox took her weapons because she was called to the scene of a murder. Technofox brought my gun from our apartment and gave it to me on the stairs," Firefox said, lying for the first time. "You'll notice Shadowfox didn't have a weapon with her that requires a license."

Bishop picked up Shadowfox's Gerber and snapped it open. "Uh-huh," he said, deadpan.

"It's of legal length, sir," Shadowfox said softly.

"To one one-thousandths of an inch, I'm sure. This a ceramic edge?" he asked curiously.

"Yes, sir."

"You could cut right through Kevlar with this, I think."

"I wouldn't know, sir," Shadowfox said. It was a miscalculation; innocence taken just one step too far. He looked at her silently, and smiled pleasantly, folding the blade.

"Nice knife," he said.

"Thank you, sir."

"Funny that the Gerber logo's in the wrong place -- they usually put it on the blade, not the handle," he said amiably.

Technofox closed her eyes. He had spotted that. The knife was special ICON issue, a combat knife that barely passed for legal. It had a Gerber action with a blade from United Technologies, hand-finished by a little old man in New Hampshire who made one a day. He lived well on that.

"Off the record, where can I get one like this?" he asked.

Shadowfox was silent for a moment. "I'll send you a catalog, sir," Firefox promised.

"I was talking to her, girl," he said mildly.

"I'm the team leader, Captain," Firefox replied politely.

"You're a team?" he asked.

"Yes, Captain," Firefox replied. "Inter Corporate Operative Network, Foxforce, licensed in Massachusetts."

"Who is your commander, girl?" he asked.

"I am, Captain," Firefox answered.

He nodded. "Who sent you to Atlanta?"

"That was my decision, Captain," Firefox said, keeping her voice steady.

Shadowfox and Morgan were sitting next to one another on a couch. Morgan looked over at Firefox momentarily, perhaps worried that she was going to lose it.

"You have the authority to make that decision?" Bishop asked.

"Yes, sir." Firefox's voice was very controlled. "The Atlanta Police do not have a chimera unit, isn't that so?"

"That's right. Did you research that?"

"It was an inspired guess," Firefox said.

"Who is your human supervisor?" Bishop asked.

Firefox hesitated. "David Torrance, sir."

'David Torrance' was their boss on paper; they had never actually met him, and Technofox wasn't even sure that he existed.

Bishop nodded and made a note in his book. He actually had a notebook and pen in his hand and a smartphone on his hip -- he probably liked to scribble notes and then transcribe them later. It seemed silly to Technofox. "So, Silverfox, you got the alert from Technofox, stole a car to respond, and arrived at the hotel."

"Yes, Captain," Silverfox replied. "I then came around the back and covered the body until relieved by police. At that point he was not obviously dead, so I assumed he was faking unconsciousness. Then the coroner arrived and confirmed the death."

"Did you see or notice anything that forensics might miss?"

"No sir," Silverfox said firmly. "I did not approach the body -- I found a good firing position and stayed there."

"So you say it wasn't obvious he was dead."

"Not from where I was standing, sir. I could smell blood, but it wasn't obviously his. As Firefox speculated, his armor held him together on impact."

"All right... you weren't on the scene when he killed Walton."

"No, sir."

He nodded. "Since you arrived before the police took charge, I'd like you to stay here for a bit."

"Yes, sir," Silverfox said primly. That was, perhaps, a subtle hint that he intended to let Shadowfox go -- she hadn't arrived until after the police.

He looked at Firefox. "So girl, what brings a chimera corporate enforcement team to Atlanta?"

"Foxforce is tasked with finding a hitman called 7.62," Firefox replied. "Our information suggested that he would be killing someone in Atlanta or Texas today."

Bishop looked up, slightly annoyed. "Did you let anyone know?" Bishop asked.

"We were sharing information with Sergeant Patricia Prescott, Captain. I'd be happy to forward you any communications we've had with her."

"Right, I remember now," Bishop said with a nod. "Something about a mob hit going down today, so we pulled security off the party conference." He shook his head, bemused. "Ah well. Stuff happens. Thanks," Bishop said, making a note. "I'll talk to her as well. All right," he said, seeming to relax a bit, "I'd like to place each of you at the time of the murder. You're ... Shadowfox, right?"

"Yes sir," Shadowfox said demurely. Technofox looked at her; Shadow's voice was a little shy and hesitant, as though she was trying to appear non-threatening.

"Where were you last night?"

"With a friend in Atlanta, sir."

"His name?"

Technofox pursed her lips. This ought to be good.

"Vladimir Korolev, sir." Shadowfox replied without batting an eye.

"You're shittin' me," Bishop said, dropping the relaxed southern boy act for a moment.

"No, sir. It's part of the ongoing operation we're on."

Bishop nodded and looked away.

"I'd be grateful if you did not try to confirm it with him," Shadowfox persisted.

"I won't," Bishop nodded. "What do I care about the private life of a respectable businesman?"

Shadowfox looked away. "Thank you, sir."

"Well, girl, you didn't get here until it was over so I don't think you need to be here just now."

Shadowfox stood up. "Thank you, sir."

"That the sort of work ICON normally has you doin'?" Bishop asked, his voice tight.

Shadowfox hesitated, but didn't say anything.

"Nice bunch of folks," he said.

Shadowfox looked away. Bishop smiled at her. "I've got your contact information just in case."

"Yes, sir. May I take my knife back?"

He nodded. "Sure."

"Thank you, sir. Firefox, I'll be in the apartment."

Firefox nodded. Shadowfox silently crept out, with a swish of her tail.

"Silverfox," Bishop said. "You were in your hotel room, the Motel 6 on Memorial?"

"Yes sir. I got a call from Technofox, and came to her assistance. As there was a credible threat to human life I was forced to steal a car."

"Right, we already talked about that ..." He trailed off, and Technofox guessed that he was cutting himself off. She doubted very much that the DA would want to pursue that: Silverfox's rationale was too good. However, he didn't want to dismiss it either because it might be useful for leverage. "Morgan?" Bishop asked expectantly.

"I was with Doctor Walton, Captain," Morgan replied. "I was his assigned bodyguard. We were returning from his morning jog."

"Not much a boy on the ground can do about a sniper," Bishop said.

"Thank you, Captain."

"So you were coming back from a jog," Bishop prompted.

"Yes, Captain. We were approaching the building from the west, in the shadow of the building. I was checking the windows."

"Did you see anything interesting?"

Morgan hesitated. "I saw someone with binoculars on the seventh floor, Captain."

"That was probably me," Technofox volunteered immediately.

"No flashes?" Bishop persisted, ignoring her.

"I did not see a muzzle flash, sir," Morgan said firmly. "The shooter had the sun at his back. I thought the shot came from lower."

"You told security the shot came from the middle of the building," Bishop said.

"Yes, sir." He looked apologetically at Technofox. "I mistook Technofox for the shooter. She had binoculars over her face, she moved immediately after the shot was made. My error, sir."

"You didn't say the shooter was synthetic."

"I didn't recognize her, sir. She had binoculars over her face and moved quickly."

"You know these girls?"

"I drove Technofox and Firefox here from the airport," Morgan explained. "I did not know they worked for ICON." That was strictly truthful, although not the whole truth.

"You did not attempt to give Doctor Walton first aid," Bishop said. He took it for granted that Morgan had been trained for that.

"No sir," the Alsatian explained. "It was a head shot and he was obviously dead."

Bishop nodded. "And then...?"

"I reported Walton was dead, there was a sniper about halfway up the building, and requested them to seal the building and call for SWAT, sir."

"SWAT? Specifically?"

"Yes, sir. It was presumptuous of me sir, but there was a sniper."

Bishop nodded. "And then?"

"I took cover behind a car and remained with Walton until relieved by the police, sir." That, Technofox realized, had been risky. He had waited there trying to cover the entire front of the building with a single pistol. And pistol against rifle didn't often end the way it did in cowboy films. "Sir, if you're finished with me, I should be with his son."

His son? Technofox absorbed that quietly. She didn't know Walton had a son. She didn't know what sort of boy he was. Boy or man? Walton was old enough. So it seemed someone would mourn Walton sincerely.

It wasn't right.

"I'll be talking with him in a bit, you're welcome to stay for that..." Bishop considered. "Technofox, where were you, girl?"

The word "girl" was starting to grate on her, but she was trying not to show it. "In ICON's apartment, Captain. Seventh floor. Walton and Morgan were about twenty five meters west of the base of the building; I was about twenty-one up and thirty-two meters away from them. The shooter was about thirty meters up and fired at a range of about forty meters down at about fifty degrees. Tricky because of the angle but a forty meter headshot isn't that hard with a scoped rifle."

"You had that all worked out?"

Technofox blinked. "No sir. Just now."

"Oh."

"I like trigonometry."

"And who doesn't? So what happened?"

"I went to the window to draw the blinds. I noticed Morgan on the grounds, and I thought I recognized Doctor Walton. The binoculars were nearby and I used them for a better look. Then Walton was shot. Since ICON policy is to render all possible aid to local law enforcement, I alerted the others and called building security, and went to the roof."

"Why the roof?"

"The shot came from above me, and I didn't have authority to search the apartments."

"So you went up the stairs."

"Yes, sir."

"Now, Firefox. Where were you?"

"I got up earlier than Technofox, and I was on my way to the diner for take-out," she said. "On the ground floor. I think I was between the sixth and fifth floors when I heard her alert. I turned and went back up."

"So you were on the staircase."

"Right. Will the police be sharing information with ICON? I'm particularly curious about the bullet."

Bishop paused. "You know something about this, girl?" he said in tones that implied any sharing would be one-way.

"As I said, sir, Foxforce is in Atlanta looking for 7.62. Are you familiar with that case, Captain?"

"I read the FBI's dossier," he said carefully.

"The body we found. I couldn't be sure from the roof, but the weapon looked like a Steyr Scout rifle."

"That's right," Bishop conceded.

"Which is available in 7.62x51," Firefox said. "That's the load 7.62 favors."

"How would you link this to 7.62?" Bishop asked.

"He uses hand-loaded match-grade 7.62x51 ammunition with the numbers '762' hand-etched into the base of the slug," Firefox said promptly. "Sometimes the logo is effaced by the propellant, but a scan of the round should show the metal compressed by the etching tool. There's more to it than that, of course, but the FBI dossier has a good guide to identifying his rounds. Furthermore, he has killed a chimera rights activist before."

"Well, it looks like you got lucky," Bishop said. "Forensics has already examined the slug. It's 7.62's."

Firefox nodded. She didn't relax in the slightest, Technofox noted. No, she didn't believe it was over. Odenberg had found a body to cover his tracks. It was just a matter of convincing the police of it.

"With respect, sir," she said, "anyone can carry a loaded rifle."

"Uhm-huh," Bishop said. "Who are you stalkin'? You must have a suspect or you wouldn't be in Atlanta."

"We have a few suspects. Nothing that will stand up in court," Firefox said. "But I'm afraid you're mistaken. We didn't follow a suspect to Atlanta. Sources indicated that 7.62 was in the city."

"I see," Bishop said, as though he didn't quite believe it.

"Has the body been identified?" Firefox asked.

Bishop looked at her steadily, as though deciding whether or not to share. Technofox shifted slightly, fascinated. She found it hard to believe that 7.62 had just slipped, and wondered whose body Per Odenberg had used, and how the whole thing had been handled. Was he retiring? At any rate, the body he used would probably be a clue. Technofox hoped Bishop would tell.

Firefox smiled brightly. "Sir, it'll be on the web this evening."

Bishop grinned back, shrugged to himself, and took out a phone. He toggled to a text message. That probably meant he wanted to get the name right, and Technofox blinked in disbelief. It couldn't be...

"Per Odenberg," he said, mispronouncing "Per." He looked up, presumably to see if it struck a chord. Obviously, it did.

"With respect sir, it's pronounced like 'Pair.' He was our best suspect," Firefox admitted.

"Then it all fits together."

"Can't be," Technofox muttered. Which, she had to admit, was entirely irrational. 7.62 could die in a stupid accident as easily as anyone else.

"You don't buy it? Why not?" Bishop asked. Technofox looked at him; he seemed genuinely curious. It could have been a sarcastic question, but she didn't get that vibe from him.

Technofox ran possibilities through her mind, and was surprised to realize that two options presented themselves. Boolean. "Either 7.62 fell off the building or he did not. If he did, he must have realized Foxforce was assigned to find him. Otherwise he's not really dead."

Bishop blinked. "How do you figure?"

He didn't say 'girl' and she was grateful for that. "The tear gas," Technofox said.

"Yes, the tear gas," Bishop said, frowning. "I was wondering about that. All I can come up with is that the grenade went off accidentally, so he got rid of it. You have a better idea?"

"Yes, sir," Technofox said firmly.

"I can't wait to hear this," Silverfox said, putting her head on her chin.

"It's a chimera thing, sir, so you couldn't spot it. You see," Technofox said, "humans recognize people by sight. That's why there's identikits, and police artists, and mug shots -- they work off the human ability to recognize other human faces quickly and correctly. Chimerae have trouble recognizing faces. We usually recognize one another by scent or sound before we recognize a face. It's hard to put in words.

"When the shooter positioned himself, he had to stay on one place. It's warm. He's in armor. He's going to leave sign. So a chimera might recognize him by the scent he left behind, but we can't describe the scent to another chimera and have them recognize it. That's a key difference between faces and scent. And that means that it only makes sense for him to cover his scent if he expects to run into the same chimerae who examined the crime scene. Since he's probably planning to leave the state, he must suspect chimerae are hunting him across jurisdictions. FBI, or more likely, a corporate entity like ICON."

"ICON has more than one chimera team?"

"Yes sir. Several. It's not illegal, of course."

"Okay so far," Bishop said. "So scenario one is that he knew your team was after him, and he didn't want you to recognize him by scent, but he fell off the building. So what's scenario two?"

"He'd also use tear gas to mask his scent if there was something wrong about the smells on the scene, something so obviously wrong that any chimera would notice the smells in that one place made no sense." She pointed at Morgan. "He knew Walton had a chimera bodyguard, so there was a good chance a chimera would be involved in the investigation. Now, he's certainly not concealing the fact he was there -- by setting off the tear gas, he's proving he was there, just like a newly polished glass on a murder scene probably had fingerprints on it."

"Or poison in it. But I see your point."

"And the most obvious thing he'd want to conceal is that the body doesn't smell like the trace left by the shooter."

Firefox listened thoughtfully for a moment and nodded once. "That would explain it," she agreed.

"But there's something you missed," Bishop said.

"Sir?" Technofox asked.

"Scenario three. The other thing he might be trying to conceal," Bishop said. "He wasn't on top of the building."

"...Oh," Technofox said, her voice a little weak.

"He could just sit there," Firefox objected. "And move later. We know he was there long enough to set the grenade."

Bishop nodded, but didn't raise the obvious objection. The grenade may have been set off by someone else.

"Think you can try to look for sign up there?" he asked.

"After tear gas?" Morgan asked, stunned into dropping the honorific.

"Sir," Technofox said, "that's a bit like asking us to stick our hands into a fire to see how hot it is."

"All right, I'll take your word for it. What do you think we should look for?" Bishop asked. "What would make you think the killer is dead?"

"His pistol, sir," Technofox said. "He has a pistol that uses 7.62x51. It's probably custom made and expensive. There needs to be Federal involvement in this case. If the weapon cannot be found in a location we can trace to Per Odenberg, then that implies 7.62 was not Per Odenberg and that 7.62 is still alive. If the weapon is found, then either Per Odenberg was 7.62, or 7.62 is willing to abandon the weapon to make it look like he is dead. Either way, I doubt there will be another 7.62 killing."

"So you've been looking for 7.62 for a while," Bishop asked.

"A few months," Technofox said.

"I've always hated head shots," Bishop said. "Almost impossible to narrow down where the shot came from. A guy's head moves all over the place. Unless you've got the shot on film, of course. I don't suppose the binoculars recorded images?" he asked hopefully.

"I'm afraid not," Technofox said.

"Pity. Did you know Doctor Walton? Personally?"

"Slightly," Firefox said. There was probably no way to conceal that, Technofox knew. Morgan had seen them talk.

"From where?" Bishop asked.

"Near San Diego. We met in a hotel," Firefox said. "I recognized him because he was involved in designing my class of chimera. This was before he went into politics."

"And do you know how sniper teams operate?" Bishop asked.

Technofox looked at him steadily. "Team of two -- a sniper and a spotter," she said. "The spotter guards the sniper and locates the target."

"Yeah, that's what I heard too," Bishop said. "One guy with a rifle, one guy with binoculars." He smiled widely.

Technofox didn't feel like returning the smile.

He looked at his notebook. "Well, I think this looks pretty much open-and-shut. Hit man shoots his target and falls off the building. Only problem is figuring out who paid him. When were you planning on leaving Atlanta?"

"A week from next Wednesday," Firefox replied. It was the date on their airplane tickets.

"Enjoy your stay. I'd appreciate a heads-up if your plans change."

"Yes, sir." Firefox said.

"And in the spirit of co-operation, I'll forward a copy of the autopsy and ballistics reports to your Mister Torrance."

Firefox hesitated. It was obvious that Bishop would prefer to deal with the human authority over Foxforce instead of directly with her. That was a slight, but his co-operation was too important to jeopardize.

"Thank you, sir."

"I'd like to talk with Mister Torrance."

"I'll give you his number, sir. He's not in town."

"He needs to be," Captain Bishop said with a pleasant smile.

"'He needs to be,'" Silverfox repeated in mocking tones. "Asshole."

She stabbed the seventh floor button.

"He's a cop with a celebrity kill on his watch," Firefox said, tiredly. "And what he probably thinks is a corporate hit squad just happened to be in the same building the sniper used. If he weren't all over us, he'd be an idiot."

Silverfox laughed out loud. "Fair enough. That means he's looking for an excuse to impound us."

"And I don't propose he get that excuse," Firefox said icily. She touched the tip of her ear, lightly; an ops signal meaning 'this is for the benefit of people who may be watching us.' "We co-operate, fully and without reservation. It's not like we're doing anything illegal here anyway."

"Yes ma'am," Silverfox said formally, without cracking a smile. Technofox nodded.

"Tech, can you call ICON and ask for Mister Torrance to fly in?"

"Yes," Technofox agreed.

"And Silverfox? Andrew's going to come down to Atlanta with our car, so you can have it in your hotel lot going forward. We really can't run around stealing cars."

Silverfox blinked. "Sure. Sounds good," she said, obviously wondering what the real reason was.

"Ah, good," Technofox said. "So Stephanie wants Andrew down to take pictures?"

Firefox nodded and smiled, a rare, non-sarcastic smile. "Right. She confirmed it last night."

And where were you last night? Technofox wondered. They couldn't discuss it in front of the security camera in the elevator. An email popped up in Technofox's in box; she read it using the implant link. "Mister Torrance says he might be in this afternoon," Technofox said. "I guess he's up early." Actually, the message was from ICON, and not from the agent who would pose as Torrance. Saying it out loud might provide a nice check -- if Captain Bishop brought it up, it would mean that he was monitoring them through security cameras.

"Good," Firefox said abstractly. Her expression implied otherwise, and Technofox wondered what she was worried about.

They left the elevator and knocked at the apartment door. Protocol was to knock before entering to give anyone inside a little warning; someone popping in unexpectedly could be stressful.

Inside, they heard sizzling and caught smells from the kitchen. "I am in an omelet mood," Shadowfox announced, without turning around. "You can have fried spam, bacon and/or cheese. That's all there was in the fridge."

"Bacon for me," Firefox said. Fried spam did not get any votes. Firefox stepped up behind Shadowfox, put an arm around her waist and closed her teeth lightly on the tip of her ear. Shadowfox turned slightly and gave her a smile before going back to her omelets. "Omelets are good, aren't they?"

"You betcha," Shadowfox said. "I saw a gas grill on the balcony. I will make a barbecue this evening. You will buy the food while I nap here. This is not open to discussion." She raised her spatula imperiously.

"So let it be done," Firefox said, nodding humbly.

Shadowfox nodded. "You know that forensics is going to report that Odenberg was 7.62. That means he was in Atlanta, not, Texas, and that I was right."

She waved a spatula at Silverfox. "Suck it up, bitch. I was right. Gloriously right. Spectacularly right." She pointed at herself. "I was right. Not you. Me. Why, just heading up the elevator, I overheard two guys. 'Who is that incredibly beautiful fox girl?' one of them said. 'I don't know,' said the other, 'but I'll bet she's right, and that gray skank is wrong.' The gods had to fly down from Olympus to warn me against hubris."

"You ignored them, though," Firefox said.

Silverfox looked at Shadowfox for a moment. "So what you're trying to tell me," she said slowly, "is that you were right?"

"I was right," Shadowfox said, nodding seriously.

"If the sniper was 7.62," Technofox said.

"Apart from Technofox, who wants a yummy omelet?" Shadowfox asked.

"I was just saying."

"I am magnaminous and I forgive your doubt. But I suppose I should admit to some fallibility. It's a good thing I didn't sleep with Morgan," Shadowfox said.

"Why?" Technofox asked.

"Appearance of impartiality," Shadowfox explained. "If it came out in interrogation it might cast doubt on any defense he'd make of us."

"So who shot Walton?" Silverfox asked.

"Not me," Firefox replied, eyes wide in feigned horror.

"No, not you," Technofox. "Firefox asked me to plan the hit and this wasn't planned. I don't see her spilling her intent to me for no reason."

Silverfox laughed. "Can you use that in a trial? 'Your honor, I believe Firefox did not kill Walton, because we were conspiring to kill him.'" Silverfox stretched, arms above her head, pushing her breasts out. Technofox was tempted to reach out and grab, but that was probably a bad idea.

"It would be an interesting defense," Firefox agreed.

"We don't get a trial in Georgia," Technofox said. "We're not slaves here, we're owned animals."

"Thanks for reminding me." Silverfox said sarcastically. "What happens if we get in trouble?"

"We call ICON's lawyer and hope he knows what he's doing. He'll pick from two strategies," Technofox said. "Exploit corruption and bribe the judge, or maneuver to make it a Federal case If a case crosses jurisdictions and the rights of individuals in the case are contested in different jurisdictions then their legal status is handled under the most restricted sense of rules. In Georgia we're owned animals, in Florida we're slaves with limited rights, and in Massachusetts we're legally human. In a Georgia / Florida case we'd be considered slaves and if Boston's involved we're humans."

"Oh, is that why we're supposed to tell the police we conspired about the accusation in Boston if we're ever arrested?" Silverfox asked.

"Exactly. The conspiracy can make it a Federal case with roots in a jurisdiction that favors chimerae."

"Huh. Neat. Now do we look for him or do we screw around for a few weeks and say we couldn't find him?" Silverfox asked.

Technofox blanched -- not so much at the idea of letting the killer go as at the idea of billing ICON dishonestly.

"We look for him," Firefox said immediately.

"You... sure?" Shadowfox asked, voice neutral. "I mean, we could just point to the corpse and say he messed up with his zipline. Hell, that might even be what happened."

Firefox hesitated, and nodded. "Yes," she said. "I hate to say it, but if 7.62 killed Walton because he was a chimera rights activist, I want him."

"Okay, then let's consider some scenarios," Technofox said. "We need to stay in town for a while to deal with Modesty anyway."

"Right," Silverfox agreed, suddenly serious. "The simplest theory is that Odenberg was 7.62. He shot Walton, and was killed in a zipline accident."

"Which is probably true," Firefox agreed, "but I want more corroboration. Like that pistol."

"And the autopsy," Technofox agreed. "There's no way we can leave before the autopsy, at least."

"Do we get anything by delaying Torrance's appearance?" Firefox asked.

Technofox considered. "Nothing I can think of. We don't need to stall and if we do we can make up for it later."

"How will Torrance fit in?" Silverfox asked.

"As far as ICON is concerned, Firefox is the op leader. Any assets attached to the op will report to Firefox unless she's reassigned," Technofox said.

"Male human taking orders from a chimera chick while pretending to be in command," Silverfox said. "That ought to work out real well."

"Maybe, but let's give him a chance," Firefox said. "And on that subject, not to name any names, but it might help if we tried to project a serious and professional image with him. I would count it as a personal favor if you crank the lust and PDAs down to eleven."

"Gotcha," Silverfox said. "I am chaste and innocent of sins of the flesh."

"I'm more worried about Modesty," Technofox said. "We've got a whole sideshow we can't let him know about. How are we going to manage that?"

"Are we sure we can't let him know?" Shadowfox asked.

"For now, yes, we are sure," Firefox said. "I don't care if he's a charter member of NAAAP, I don't see how he needs to know. As far as he's concerned, Andrew's my boyfriend, and he's here to take pictures, and insofar that it has anything to do with the op it's to win the hearts and minds of the natives. Unless anyone has a good idea on how to tie Modesty into the investigation."

"Andrew's also shuttling the car down," Silverfox said.

"Where will he sleep?" Shadowfox asked.

Firefox and Technofox looked at one another. It was, actually, an awkward question.

"Firefox and Andrew in the master bedroom," Technofox said. "Torrance in the guest bedroom. I'll sleep on the couch."

"That's a big bed in the master bedroom," Firefox said. Silverfox whistled suggestively. Technofox looked up and reddened under her fur.

"Don't you think that might weird Torrance out too much?" Technofox muttered.

Firefox smiled gently.

"Thanks again for driving me," Technofox said.

"Not a problem," Morgan said. "I'm glad to do it." He reflected for a moment. "His son's taking it pretty well. Or as well as can be expected. He was asleep through the whole thing. He's with a friend."

He seemed to want to talk about that more, but Technofox didn't. "Mister Torrance is flying in from New York," Technofox said. "There it is -- Eastern 2620, landing at 1715. Quarter hour ahead of schedule. Does that actually happen?"

"Not often," Morgan said with a laugh. She looked up at him and smiled. He was a lot bigger than she was, and having him around made her feel safe, almost as safe as she felt with the others. "I was wondering something, though."

"Sure," Technofox asked, her voice going neutral despite herself.

"Are you sure the shot came from above you?" His voice was casual, but there was obvious anxiety in it.

"Absolutely," she said. "Think we're involved?"

"Nah. You wouldn't kill him from your own apartment building. Besides, you don't seem the type to run around barefoot and commando with only five rounds on you if you can help it. It's just that if he was shot from the roof, his head had to be back pretty far," Morgan said. "Around fifty degrees. He wasn't just looking up, he was leaning back a little."

"You think he saw the shooter?"

"Maybe," Morgan said. "But what gets me is that I didn't. The sun was behind the building, and I remember it was too bright to see anything at the roof level."

Technofox shrugged. "The condo's close to this airport," she said. "Maybe Walton saw a weird airplane."

Morgan considered and nodded. "Could be. You know, there's a Navy air station nearby. They operate airships and blimps."

"Really?" Technofox asked. "Yeah, one of those might have caught his eye. Or maybe Walton just had a crick in his neck."

"That too," Morgan admitted. "You've been looking for 7.62 for a while?"

"Since November."

"Why would he want to kill Doctor Walton and Ashok Mehta?" Morgan asked.

Technofox licked her lips. "He's a killer for hire," she said. "But Walton and Mehta seem ... I don't know, to break his pattern. His other jobs were pretty standard mob hits. Walton and Mehta might have been more personal."

"Is?" Morgan asked. "Present tense?"

Technofox nodded. "I'm not convinced 7.62 is dead. I've used ziplines. They're pretty foolproof. You clamp the spider onto the line, and they let you drop at one or two meters a second. You don't need to enter your weight or anything. I can't figure out how he got himself killed."

Morgan shrugged. "Maybe the spider malfunctioned. Maybe he forgot to attach the line before jumping off the building. People do funny things when they're stressed. Sometimes on old battlefields they find muzzle-loading muskets with multiple charges. The soldier kept loading the weapon over and over and forgot to fire."

"Yes..." Technofox agreed.

She had a mental image of Odenberg falling thirty meters, thinking "Forgot to attach the line, drat it all." It sounded like a sick joke and she suppressed laughter, but Morgan was absolutely right. That sort of thing wasn't uncommon in the real world.

"Well," she said, "that's why I hate waiting for the police report. There's a lot we still need to figure out -- who hired him if anyone, did anyone actually see him fall, how did he get onto the roof..."

"Not through the stairs," Morgan said. "We looked at the security footage. Nobody went to the roof last night through the staircases. Unfortunately, there are no cameras covering the roof itself. Some of the residents use the roof for nude sunbathing, and the cameras were removed."

"If there were cameras there, he would have chosen another firing position. He might have hacked the security camera, but I don't think Odenberg was that good with computers." She scratched her neck. "What can you tell me about the security cameras? Are there blind spots, especially on the outside?"

He hesitated. "The cameras cover the elevators, stairs, the garage and lobby area, and the diner. So basically you can't move between floors without getting on camera, but you can move about on a floor without being spotted. Outside the building there's cameras covering the doors and windows on the ground level."

"I noticed that there's no doors and windows on the bottom half of the east side of the building," Technofox said.

"Right. There used to be another building there. It's been torn down since."

"So there's no cameras there."

Morgan nodded. "Right. So he could have used a line gun to come up the east side."

"Could be. It would be easier if we knew exactly what he had on him, but Bishop hasn't released everything yet."

"Ten stories straight up is a very long shot for a line gun."

"Or from one of the upper floor balconies," Technofox said.

"There's two suites on the tenth floor. The one we were using and the other one's occupied by a French businessman."

"Auguste Dupin," Technofox agreed. "Chantal's owner." Technofox wondered if she should mention that Chantal and perhaps her owner were probably agents. It certainly seemed credible that they might be acting under orders. "That's likely a dead end, though. It would be nice if we could prove someone inside the building was involved," Technofox said. "But Shadowfox said the outside of the building didn't look too hard to scale. So maybe he didn't need inside help."

"Wasn't the cable attached by someone on the roof?"

"Sure, but he'd probably do that once he reached the roof even if he went up with a line gun. A manually hooked cable is more secure."

"Of course." Morgan chuckled. "You'll have to excuse me. Apart from giving evidence, I've never been involved in an investigation."

"Not at all. I like talking about it. Putting things in words helps." She leaned back. "I'm going to ask around the chimerae, I think."

"Bishop will do that."

"Sure, but I don't think he'll get them to talk. You know how it is. Some chimerae will cover up just for the sake of putting one over on the humans."

He looked at her. "Even when they're investigating the murder of Travis Walton?" he asked.

Technofox nodded, but she had to look away.

It was an interesting point. Stephanie had warned Firefox off Walton. Would she go further than that, and conspire in his death?

No, Technofox was getting ahead of herself -- they still hadn't established that 7.62 needed someone inside the condo.

"His plane's landed," Morgan said.

Technofox nodded. "Do you have a sign?"

Morgan blinked. "Won't he know you?"

I certainly hope so, Technofox thought with dread. She used her implant to bring up a picture, and wished there was a way to email a scent.

His carry-on case was as big as regulations allowed; Technofox had the same brand, in a different color. He was of medium height, and wore loose clothes with too many pockets. His hair was a bit too dark to be called blonde, and he had a beard and mustache -- the sort of facial hair that wasn't so much growing a beard as it was avoiding a shave. She wouldn't be surprised to learn he carried a set of twenty-sided dice, just in case. He was slightly out of shape -- not so much "fat" as "should consider having one less slice of pizza."

"Technofox," he said brightly, putting out a hand. Well, he was clean, at least -- he had showered with Ivory hand soap the night before.

What should she call him? He was supposed to be her boss, but she didn't want to start deferring to him, either.

"David," she said finally, smiling and shaking his hand. "This is Morgan."

"Morgan," David said.

"Mister Torrance, sir."

"David, please. You'll make me nervous. I'm from New York. Polite is leaving off 'you schmuck.'" He said this looking around the baggage claim area.

Morgan chuckled. "David," he repeated.

"I've got a checked bag and a trunk," David said. "Which carousel -- oh, there it is."

He zipped nimbly away, moving through the crowd with the amazing grace and speed of a movie samurai hero slicing through an opposing army in an unusually well-choreographed fight sequence. Technofox watched, mesmerized, as he turned deftly this way or that to avoid striking a passer-by with elbow or hip. It was like watching a sentient pinball somehow zoom past all the bumpers and posts and right between the paddles.

"Pretty deft for a human," Morgan said under his breath.

"It's his New York powers," Technofox explained.

His trunk was the biggest that the airlines would check in, and HEAVY and FRAGILE notices were both decaled onto it. His checked bag was bulging. Morgan moved to take the trunk.

"I'd rather," Torrance said politely. "Could I ask you to take the suitcase?"

"Let me take your carry-on," Technofox heard herself say. David hesitated and handed it over to her.

"Careful, my notebook's in that," he cautioned her.

"What's in the trunk?" Technofox asked.

"Computers."

Plural. "Ooo," Technofox replied, feeling stimulated. The trunk had built-in wheels, and a folding handle on the outside. They chatted about the flight down and the weather.

"Can we stop off somewhere?" David said as they put his stuff in the van. "They served airline food."

"We're having dinner in the condo," Technofox said. "Do you like barbecue?" It was, she realized after she said it, a slip -- if she knew him, she'd probably know that.

"Oh, yeah," he said with a nod. "Sounds great."

"Sorry," Technofox said to Morgan. "I'd invite you, but we don't have enough food."

It was, of course, a lie and Morgan probably knew it. "No problem. Some other time, maybe."

David tipped Morgan, and Morgan closed the door behind him. Firefox looked at the trunk dubiously.

"Ma'am," David said formally. "I'm your resource and I am to give you priority, but I've got some other cases as well."

"The ma'am's not necessary, but thank you, it's nice to hear. Call me Firefox," Firefox said. "You'll be posing as our human commander -- that means you need to bone up on our reports to date so you can liaise with the police. Have you done this sort of thing before?"

"Yes. For the Wolfpack and the Pride."

"Good," Firefox said. "I don't think you'll be needed full time. What's in the trunk?"

"I've got four computers," he said. "Can I have a desk with two outlets and at least one landline connection?" He pointed to the dining table. "That would be fine, if we could move it against the wall there."

"I'd rather not," Firefox said. "Someone may be using the living room as a studio for glamor photography and I don't want that to get in your way." David hesitated and blinked. Firefox looked at him cooly, with a little surprise, as though every ICON operation involved nude photography, and she couldn't imagine why he was surprised.

"...Of course," he said finally, not wanting to seem a stranger to field operations.

"There's a desk in the second bedroom," Technofox said.

"Fine," Firefox agreed. "You can set up in there. But why all the computers? Can't you just remote to a server farm?"

"I'm in virtual investigations," David said to her. "I've got ten different online personas, and the different computers are to make it harder to connect them."

"I see," Firefox said. "Well, Technofox can help you set up. Shadowfox is sleeping in the main bedroom so try to keep it down."

"Thanks," he said. "And I want to apologize in advance if I have to look like a bit of an ass when we're not alone. This is your op, ma'am, and you're in command, but we have to make it look like I'm in charge."

Firefox relaxed considerably. "Thanks, but no apologies are necessary."

"I didn't bring my full kit," Technofox said, "but if you forgot something ask me first."

"Thanks," David said. "I should have everything I need -- I've done this just last week with the Wolfpack. Can you help me set up?"

She was hoping he'd ask. "Sure." She had heard of virtual investigations, but she had never worked that side of ICON. Technofox was a cracker, trained to gain unauthorized access to systems; virts assumed different identities online and networked into illegal activity. Technofox had tapped a data line to watch 7.62 dance on a MMORPG; a virt would create a character, and try to ingratiate himself with the player. In one case, a virt had gone through six different characters and personas before finding the one that a target would pair up with. It was a strange skill set; more akin to improv theater than information technology. The best virts were often not very technical at all.

She held the door to the guest bedroom as he maneuvered the trunk in. The room had a desk and chair, bed, and a chest of drawers; the first thing he looked at was the desk.

"That should be good," he said. "Let's see if we can fit my monitors onto it."

He popped the trunk open. Inside, he had a Navi, two generic computers which might run multiple operating systems by multi-booting, and a system she recognized as the guts of a public access network terminal. She blinked. Calling it eclectic was an understatement. She would never have considered trying to build a computing system from such a disparate mass of hardware.

Over the next half hour, a collection of packed components and impeccably wound cables became a computer system. Sort of. It was bewildering to Technofox, because as cables hooked to one another and to boxes she realized the systems were isolated from one another so far as data was concerned; connecting only through peripherals.

Then, suddenly, she had a moment of insight: there really was no "system" there at all. It was supposed to look like multiple independent systems. Even if someone was somehow able to tap deep enough into the computer David was using to get a system scan, there was no way to determine that it was part of an intelligence platform. She personally would have used his budget to build a single shared processor system: David didn't want or need raw power. He wanted to look like several different people.

The last piece was his notebook computer, on a dock. He flipped five switches and waited as four computers started up. The two screens winked on. He brought up the Navi and his notebook, and started two web browsers, going to the same website. One of the screens was desaturated out; the colors on the other vibrant.

"What are those cards for?" she asked, pointing at a set of ten chips about the size of SD cards, sitting neatly in a holder. Each had a city's name on them.

"That's for the public terminal," he said. "Each one resolves to a different city, so I can have a computer problem, go to a public terminal, and talk from there."

"Ah. And the desaturated screen?"

"That shows me which is connected to my keyboard," he said. "It's good to have two monitors up so I can reference one while using the other."

He read for a minute and typed in a response. "StarChyld is an underage girl who pretends to be older," he said.

"To bring out the pervs?" Technofox asked.

"Yes and no," David said. "She gets hit on once in a while but since she's really a thirty-five year old guy pretending to be a girl about fourteen pretending to be nineteen it would be practically impossible to get a conviction. I use her mostly to ask dumb questions, and to gauge a board. Sometimes a board will think she's young but of age, sometimes they get hot and bothered. It gives me a feel for who hangs out where. If someone hits on her and gets slapped down it's a family-friendly situation, probably."

He tapped a custom button on his keyboard. The muted screen sharpened, and the sharp screen became muted. He started typing. "Elton here doesn't like StarChyld much, not since another guy on the site privately told him that StarChyld was probably underage. He hates phonies. Still, he's polite." He brought up a tiny window and studied it. "Good. The proxy's working -- these IP addresses are the same I was using back home."

"Can you talk about anything you're working on?" Technofox asked, now curious.

"I'm working on some smuggling stings. Trade of endangered species. I'm trying to score some protected Amazon butterflies from a guy in Japan."

"And you've done some fieldwork?"

"Yes, in fact I --" he hesitated. "Yes. Like I said, I've been the human beard for a chimera team before."

Technofox was still for a moment, her ears twitching. "You were going to say something else."

He was quiet, and looked up at her. "I was pulled into field ops when you went missing. They had me drop everything and go to chimera brothels looking for you. Sorry."

"Why sorry?"

"Because I didn't find you. We screwed up," he admitted. "They said I should go to Blue Diamond first to sort of ease me into the whole whoremonger scene. I said no, I'd rather just dive into the little sleazy places ... you see, we didn't think it was Blue Diamond. The place is too big, you'd think they were completely above-board. By the time Blue Diamond was coming up, they aborted the mission. Later I found out that you were getting messages out through a sympathetic client."

Technofox closed her eyes. She exhaled slowly through her teeth.

"Technofox?" he asked tentatively.

"Not your fault," she said, too brightly. "I mean, everything's always in the last place you look, right?"

Shadowfox stood to one side of the grill to give everyone a good look. She flipped a burger melodramatically into the air, and smiled softly when it landed on the raw side. Firefox applauded.

"Fire?" Technofox said. "Word with you?"

Firefox looked up. It was obviously not a good time. Technofox glanced briefly at David's back.

"Sure," Firefox said. "Is this about that car gizmo? Your laptop's in the main bedroom, right?"

"Right," Technofox said, relieved. Firefox was good at coming up with plausible fibs.

They went into the main bedroom without closing the door. They clustered in a far corner and whispered, watching the door.

"David said he was sent to look for us when ICON sent us to Blue Diamond," Technofox said.

"So he was going to be our contact?" Firefox asked. "Except we met Andrew instead --"

Technofox shook her head, and her hair flapped. "No," she said. "Not look for us in Blue Diamond, look for us in brothels, one of which was Blue Diamond."

Firefox hesitated. "That doesn't make sense," she said immediately. "ICON sent us to Blue Diamond."

"And Blue Diamond tampered with our implants, made us lose our memories of how exactly we got there," Technofox said. "So none of us had clear memories of volunteering. Then ICON showed a recording of us volunteering to go to Blue Diamond."

Firefox nodded silently. "So you think ICON lied to us."

Technofox fell quiet. "You caught on fast."

"I've suspected it. All four of us losing memories of the same event? Possible, but not likely."

"And you didn't say anything?" Technofox asked, astonished.

"Keep your voice down. No. I had nothing to go on."

"...Okay."

"David might be lying."

"Or he might have been on another case," Technofox said. "Maybe looking for someone else."

"Not impossible," Firefox agreed.

"But why would ICON do that?" Technofox asked, bewildered. "Why pretend we volunteered?"

"To protect someone," Firefox replied immediately.

"Who?"

"Walton, maybe," Firefox said.

"No," Technofox said. "You wanted him dead anyway."

"...Yes," Firefox said slowly, looking disturbed. "We can't talk about this now."

Technofox nodded. "Back to the party."

"And have fun," Firefox said, dour.

They went back to the living room. "I heard a story about two virts nailing each other on a vice charge by accident," Silverfox said. "Is that true?"

"I've heard that too," David said. "But I'm not sure if I believe it. The problem is that I'm not sure what the charge would be. Suppose I'm looking for chickenhawks -- fine, I pretend I'm a twelve year old boy who likes gladiator movies. Then another virt hooks up with me, we arrange to meet. Okay, fine -- but what was the other virt looking for? Bi-curious little boys? What crime does he think I'm committing?"

"How about something where both sides of the transaction's illegal?" Silverfox asked. "Like, say, human prostitution?"

David frowned. "Is that still illegal in the US?"

"Some places, yes. I think they put an amendment to the constitution of Utah."

"Oh, right. Okay, so there you've got two virts, one pretending to be a prostitute and the other a client. Now, if I'm trying to get someone convicted, I can't be the first one to suggest something illegal. That's entrapment. Same as if I went around saying that I want to buy Bald Eagle feathers. Even if someone says yes, it won't stand up in court. So if both the prostitute and the client are virts --"

"-- Neither one will be the first to actually make an offer," Silverfox finished for him. "I get it."

"But it is a funny story," David agreed.

"What if you're not trying for a conviction?" Technofox asked. "Suppose you're just gathering information, or looking for leverage over someone?"

"Then yeah, it could happen," David agreed. "In that case, it could be something as simple as meeting for a homosexual hookup. Lots of people would want to keep that quiet."

Technofox smiled to herself. She liked it when people took her seriously enough to listen to.

"Have you had any time to look around Atlanta?" David asked.

"Not really," Technofox heard herself say.

"This isn't a vacation, unfortunately," Firefox said.

"No, it isn't," David agreed, around a mouthful of burger. "But I always like to make notes on stuff when I go to a new city. Like once I was a kid from Milwaukee, and I think I pulled it off because I talked about this cool diorama at the Public Museum where a T-Rex is eating a stegosaur. It just seemed like something a little boy would notice. So I was hoping to wander around a little, maybe go to the science museum across town."

Technofox's gaze rested on him for a moment, as though he had stroked her head in just the right way. Her lips turned into a grin, and she opened her mouth to speak.

"I'd like that," she heard.

Technofox froze. She hadn't spoken.

It was Shadowfox.

And now Shadowfox had caught his eye, and they were looking at one another steadily. Shadowfox had a soft, inviting smile, a hint of amusement twinkling in her eye. David responded hesitantly, with a twitch at the corners of his mouth.

Technofox's mouth was slightly open, her own grin vanishing. She knew she had to look stupid, but she kept her mouth open because she had to say something. She knew she had to say something, anything, or she was going to lose something.

She looked at Shadowfox, her curved, perfect body, the warm and friendly set to her beautiful face, like a goddess showing favor. Shadowfox didn't have to pose, she didn't have to think about it; she just was. It came to her as naturally as breathing.

And he was responding, she saw that. She could sense it, although she'd never be able to say how or why she knew it. It was nothing like the way men wanted her, back in Blue Diamond. Nothing like that. David's eyes had affection.

Technofox had to say something. She couldn't think of what she had to say. She knew she had to say something, or Shadowfox was going to take something away from her. She looked back at Shadowfox, at her smile and at eyes that glowed with a warm invitation. For David. How could anyone see that face without falling a little in love?

She closed her mouth.

What was the point of saying anything?

***

"That was pathetic."

The table was hard, and Technofox's wrists were chained down over her head. She was naked, and afraid and trembling. There was a wastebasket on the floor. She could smell the used condom in it.

"We're going to keep going until you do it right," she said. "Like a Blue Diamond Girl."

She was dark skinned, with long white hair and ears longer than her hand; large breasts in a leather halter, gold clasp between her breasts holding it together. She looked strangely familiar, and she was: women like her had graced the covers of hundreds of cheesy fantasy novels. Drow, Dark Elf, whatever they were called, they were creatures of sexualized evil. The meme predated chimerae. Her name was Lilith, and she was the third tamer of Blue Diamond.

Lilith slapped a cardboard box onto the table, next to Technofox's head. It was filled with condoms, each in their little foil envelopes, a box of twenty. Nineteen now.

A man came in. He wore a bathrobe, and Technofox was sure she had seen him before. He was one of the guards. Technofox could smell that he had had a drink.

Lilith smiled brightly at him, and looked at Technofox. "Let's start with the basics."

She turned back to him, parted his robe. She stared at his flaccid penis, and it started to stir. She put out a hand, ran a fingernail gently along it, base to tip. She licked her lips, fascinated, as it grew hard.

She went to her knees, looked up at him entreatingly, and ran her tongue along his shaft, now fully erect. She took an envelope out of the box and opened it as she spoke to Technofox.

"Pay attention, Candi. A Blue Diamond Girl loves cocks," she said. "You can't keep your eyes off them. You love to see them, touch them, taste them, warm them inside you." She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against his erection, nuzzled it. "She's such a lucky girl," she told him. "She's going to love this, deep inside, where it counts."

Technofox looked at him, made eye contact. "Don't do it," she said. She crossed her legs, turned her hips away from him.

"When she turns like that it's because she wants it in her ass," Lilith said. "You up for that? We can roll her over so you can drive straight into her."

"N-no, that's all right, I'd rather ... not. You sure this is okay? They told me it's okay, but she's--"

"You're helping her get over a mental block," Lilith said to him, encouragingly. "It's good for her."

He hesitated for a moment, looked at Lilith uncertainly. She rolled her eyes with vexation. "You're holding up the others," she said. "Show a little consideration for them."

He lay down on top of Technofox, careful not to rest all his weight on her, as though afraid of hurting her. She squirmed, struggled, but with Lilith's help he slipped smoothly into her. She shuddered and moaned with that delicious entry.

"See how much she loves it?" Lilith asked softly. "It's like she pulled you in, and now she's holding you tight... she's not a human girl. Don't anthropomorphize her."

The guard grinned sheepishly, as though he were embarrassed.

"Let it out, girl," Lilith said. "Let him know how good it is, like your girlfriend Chili does."

He rested on his forearms, his arms framing her head, and he looked into her eyes. She knew her eyes were filled with longing, that her breasts moved invitingly as she breathed deep with excitement and pleasure. Her body invited him in, savored him, only her mind made it rape. Which was lying, her body, herself? She was so worn down the question made sense. But despite the horrible doubt she felt, she used her words for the truth.

"Don't," she begged.

"Do the lying little bitch," Lilith said flatly.

He pulled his shaft outwards. For an instant, she thought he was going to withdraw, and her eyes lit up and she smiled at him gratefully -- but just as his tip was going to clear, he thrust back in. Technofox heard the cry of pleasure forced from her throat, and saw the doubt leave his eyes.

He thrust at her, in and out, accelerating like a piston, and she could no more feign indifference or express her outrage than she could abstain from screaming when Tigre used her whip. She climaxed first.

He kissed her twice, gently, and she struggled not to respond.

"Nice," Lilith said. "You really got to her. But don't get romantic, okay? Give the next guys a crack."

"Okay," said with a grin, talking to Lilith, not to Technofox.

He left, and Lilith waited until the door closed. She tossed his condom into the basket on the floor. "Better, but not great," Lilith said. "I'll say it again. You stay there until I'm satisfied. This is Blue Diamond. Think we're going to run out of condoms, or dicks?"

"...No," Technofox said, feeling the inevitability of defeat wash over her.

"All right," Lilith said. She put her hand down and stroked Technofox's head. "You ever watch porn?"

"No," Technofox said.

"Really? I thought that's what you were going for just then."

"What?" Technofox asked, stupefied.

"You should watch porn for men, because you can learn a lot about what men want from women. You always get a 'No-Gasp! No-Gasp!' scene with a bound woman."

Technofox looked at her, horrified. Lilith laughed out loud. "You didn't know that? Stupid cunt. This time try hugging him with your legs when he's in you. You see, you want him to fuck you, you want his cock so bad, You want to wrap your arms and legs around him and just squeeze that sweet come out --"

"Stop this, stop this, please," Technofox begged her. "You have to know what it really is, you have to see it, you're a woman --"

"I am not a woman," Lilith said curtly. "You are not a woman. We are toys that look like women. And you need to learn how to play. Now, the trick is to encourage repeat business. Yes, you're tied up, but you love it with him. Not just any cock, his. He's special. Get his name, give him yours, Candi."

Technofox dropped her head back on the table.

"Next," Lilith called out.

Basking in the post-orgasmic glow, Technofox could still feel his body working at her, his hands cradling her head, keeping her comfortable even as he raped her, a juxtaposition of kindness and brutality that made no sense anywhere in the world except Blue Diamond.

"That was good, Candi," he said, pulling out of her and making her shudder.

"Thank him," Lilith ordered.

"Thank you, Jeff," Technofox muttered.

"Good girl." Technofox heard the condom land in the basket, with a wet slap as it joined the others in the pile. The door closed behind him.

Lilith said. "Baby, I've seen girls pull trains before, but you're like a nuclear-powered locomotive. You love having 'em lined up around the block, don't you?"

Technofox was worn and frazzled. She was excited, stimulated, satisfied and voracious on one hand; and another side of her wanted to wash and wash...

"Don't you?" Lilith asked again. And Technofox could hear the whip in her words. A whip was always near to her hand. She was a tamer, this was Blue Diamond.

"Yes," Technofox said. And it was less a lie to make her happy than the truth, no matter what Technofox told herself.

"Good girl," Lilith said. "We'll give your pussy a little rest."

Technofox looked at her, part of her knowing it was a trap, part of her hopeful against all logic.

Lilith smiled. "Roll over, cross your arms, tail to the side. Next!"

She woke up. Her hands were free.

"You okay?" Firefox asked, drowsily. "You were mumbling something --"

In reply, Technofox grabbed her, rolled over on top of her, pressed her lips hard against hers, choking off her pleased and surprised giggle. "Whoa, sugar," Firefox laughed. "Let me get my breath."

"Can we?" Technofox asked uncertainly.

Firefox looked at her, puzzled for a moment, and suddenly her eyes widened. She put a hand on Technofox's face.

"In Blue Diamond, we said things to men and tamers that weren't true," Firefox said. "And they're the same things I'm telling you now."

Technofox bit her lip and looked away. "They were sort of true," she said weakly.

"Yes, they were," Firefox nodded. "In a way they were true. But not up here where it counts," she said, tapping Technofox on the forehead. "Why don't we set up a code word?" Firefox asked. "If I say 'pretzels' it'll mean that I want to stop. No matter how turned on I am. Okay? And you do the same."

Technofox smiled, feeling a little embarrassed at being so silly. "Okay."

"Think you'd give David a tumble?" Firefox asked.

Technofox blinked, startled, and laughed. "Well, I..." she said, "I hadn't thought about it."

"I saw you look at him," Firefox said. "Don't think he did, though. He's the type who'd be better off if people had emoticons floating over their heads."

"So am I," Technofox pointed out.

"You could text message him during sex with your brain implant," Firefox suggested. "One means 'faster,' two means 'harder,' and three means 'omigod omigod omigod...' then send the output though an artificial voice."

Technofox giggled. "Easier than talking."

"Sometimes."

"Well, Shadowfox is adding him to her collection, so it's out of the question." When she said it, it sounded a lot more bitter than she thought it would.

Firefox's ears twitched. "Yes. After I told everyone I wanted them to be professional."

"That's what Shadowfox does professionally," Technofox reminded her.

Firefox grunted, annoyed. "And if word gets around? I hate to say it, but there's a good reason I don't suck off every ICON agent who catches my eye. If you're a woman and you're too easy, men don't take you seriously. Or as seriously, I should say. Is ICON going to keep sending us contracts if they think the four of us play strip Twister?"

"But we do play strip Twister," Technofox objected.

"Not exactly my point. I'll talk to her if you want."

"No."

Firefox looked at her steadily, and then smiled. She was on her back, holding Technofox lightly, a smile on her face. She put her hands on Technofox's buttocks, slid her upwards. To avoid banging her noggin against the headboard Technofox moved to a sitting position. Firefox moved her up slightly, and brought her down so her thighs rested on Firefox's breasts.

Technofox shivered. Her legs were open, and Firefox was looking at her intently.

"Beautiful," Firefox finally said, softly. She moved her head forward to kiss her. Technofox gasped and shivered. "Beautiful, and fragrant, and tasty. I'm so lucky."

Firefox fell silent, aside from the soft slurping sounds as she got to work in earnest. Technofox closed her eyes, let Firefox slide her hands over her belly and breasts.

Firefox was good to her. She made her feel wanted. Men wanted Technofox all right, yes, they'd line up around the block for her. Unless she consented.