Silverfox 05
#5 of Silverfox
Silverfox 05
Silverfox broke line of sight before pausing to take off her flippers. She hooked them on to her gear and kept going. Silverfox didn't head straight for the Empress; she didn't want to lead anyone there. By the time she was convinced she was alone, she had covered a couple of kilometers. She stood in an alley and considered her next step.
She certainly had to get off the street before she was spotted. Walking around in diving gear was probably not illegal, but it would attract unwanted notice, especially if the police found a floating body with a spear in it. She could either go to her hotel room, or to Jerry's.
Jerry could let her in, but she could probably pick the lock to the other. She didn't have her tool set. But she could improvise something out of wire ... but all her gear was at Jerry's, and she wanted to get these pictures to Boston.
Besides, she didn't want to stay up all night.
Silverfox hoped that sneaking halfway across Victoria and into an expensive hotel while wearing a diving suit would be easier than she thought.
Fortunately, Victoria, British Columbia, was a pretty quiet place at 0245 hours on a Thursday. Silverfox saw more police cars than civilians, and the police were driving slowly, flashers on, but with no sense of urgency. They seemed to be showing the flag instead of hunting for people who might know something about a swim-by spear-gunning. If they saw her they'd be bound to suspect she was involved. As Silverfox picked her way across a street, in a wetsuit and carrying exotic breathing gear, she reflected darkly on how chimerae always seemed to be singled out for suspicion.
She wondered if she should go to the police. No, because even if she hadn't broken any laws, Hardtack certainly had. She wondered if she should jettison her gear. Being picked up naked would probably be much easier to explain than diving gear. But no; it would be found, and traced to Hardtack. Even if it wasn't found, Hardtack would need to explain what had happened to it. A bad idea on all sorts of levels.
So much for co-operating with the police, she thought. To keep Hardtack from getting into trouble she had to flee the scene of a death, and carry an illegal pistol. Two felonies right there.
On the bright side, she had a pretty good chance of making it back to the hotel undetected. Probably. So Silverfox sprinted from darkness to darkness, waiting in shrubbery while cars and the occasional pedestrian went by. With any luck, anyone who heard her would think she was just a fox.
She wanted to shake. It was a sensation humans didn't get; a bit like an itch, but one that would be relieved by shaking instead of scratching. But the wetsuit would keep the water trapped in her fur, and she knew shaking would just make the feeling worse. How had that particular bit of canid behavior make it into her genome?
On the bright side, the night air and time and movement was drying her off to some extent. She was damp, and obviously so, but she wasn't leaving wet footprints and going squish with every step.
She lurked behind the Empress, and was soon rewarded when someone came out through a door, pushing a dumpster. She ducked around it and slipped through the door before it closed. If she were caught, she could explain she was Jerry's guest, and there was every chance they might speak to him before calling the police. They'd probably avoid embarrassing a new patron whose repeat business they wanted. That was especially true if Silverfox could come up with a cover story that was at least vaguely plausible. She should have one prepared.
The only thing she could think of, unfortunately, was hinting that she was his mistress and Jerry had a scuba fetish. And she had to admit that didn't seem like much of a story. If only she were dressed like a nurse. Shadowfox had pulled that off once, after sneaking around a hospital.
If Technofox were in this situation, she could convince the hotel management that she had a passionate interest in nocturnal marine life. Hell, knowing Technofox, she probably did. Firefox would convince anyone she saw that nocturnal diving was nothing out of the ordinary, giving them a slightly puzzled cocked eyebrow that would make them doubt their own sanity. All Silverfox could do was blow their brains out before they could ask, which she knew would lead to problems down the line. She felt angry and frustrated. There had to be a perfectly innocent reason a woman in scuba gear would break into a hotel; but what was it?
There was only one other person in the kitchen. He was smoking, in what had to be a flagrant violation of health laws. Silverfox wondered if she could pose as a frogman from the inspectors. No, that didn't hold together well; the hotel kitchen inspectors probably didn't send divers.
She slipped out of the kitchen, into the dark restaurant. The chairs were up and a robot bounced from table leg to table leg, vacuuming as it glided across the floor. The door swung shut behind her with a thump that sounded very loud. She ducked behind a table and froze for a count of fifteen seconds.
She darted up a staircase, out onto the third floor, and knocked on Jerry's door with relief flowing through her.
He opened it at the exact moment a maid came around the corner, pushing a cart filled with towels. The maid looked blankly at the chimera standing in the hall in a wetsuit and carrying an oxygen rebreather. Silverfox fought to be nonchalant. The worst thing she could do was look chalant.
"Is this the swimsuit party?" Silverfox asked Jerry.
"That's right," Jerry replied brightly and took her in.
Hardtack had his boots off and was sitting with three fingers of whiskey in his glass, looking bemused at her. Jerry poured her a drink -- she ducked past him and started up her notebook. Her paws were damp. As her computer booted, she took her camera, still wet with salt water, and looked around. It would be a shame to get water spots on the furniture.
"Towel," she said. Hardtack was leaving the bathroom with one for her; she grabbed it and put the camera on top. The camera and laptop began talking to one another.
"You okay?" Jerry asked.
"I don't know yet," Silverfox replied. She brought up a digital police call monitor. Right now, the highest priority message involved a public disturbance about a kilometer away from the Inner Harbour. The call included the mysterious string: "Orca Pete." Looking over the text messages she saw they were from all over the island, all talking about Orca Pete. They had the look of in-jokes, told a dozen times among an insular community of police and completely incomprehensible to an outsider.
"Hardtack has to be back at the base tomorrow afternoon," Jerry said. "I offered him the couch."
"Nice to have you over," Silverfox said. This could be a problem. She could easily ask Jerry to leave the room if she had to talk to Firefox. Kicking out Hardtack would be harder. "I owe you a big one. Do you know Orca Pete?"
"Orca Pete?" Hardtack looked befuddled for a moment, and then chuckled. "Oh, yeah. He's a local nutcase. I pulled him out of the ocean once. He's trying to turn into a killer whale."
"How does one turn into a killer whale?" Jerry asked.
"I don't think he's following a specific program," Hardtack explained. "I have to admit I've never made any deep inquiries."
"I can sympathize," Jerry nodded. "I met a guy like that in Boston. He's the rightful heir to the Czars. He told me all about it once while on the way to a free church breakfast."
"Did you volunteer at the church?" Hardtack asked. He glanced around. "Somehow I doubt you were going there for a free meal."
"Nah. He was having trouble with his wheelchair so I gave him a push. He was undoubtedly mad, unfortunately."
Hardtack laughed. "What was your first clue?"
"He said that Jesus loved me," Jerry explained. "Obviously nuts."
"That's a funny coincidence." Hardtack said. "Orca Pete said the same thing to me. When I met him, he had painted himself black and white and was swimming for San Juan." Silverfox had to remind herself there was a San Juan Island off British Columbia as well as one in the Caribbean. "He said that Jesus knew my heart was in the right place, but that he needed to stay in the water."
"How far did he get?" Jerry asked.
"About two kilometers," Hardtack said. "I'm just glad he didn't make it across the border. The paperwork's a bitch. You have to explain everything over and over again. And they never believe it."
"Would you?" Silverfox asked.
"I suppose not," Hardtack admitted. "Whenever Orca Pete makes it over the border it's the same story. The USCG always assign the case to someone new and our police always have to explain all about Orca Pete again. I swear the Coast Guard rotates the officers involved as a joke or something."
"Can't they send him to Saskatchewan or something land-locked?" Jerry asked.
Hardtack shrugged. "He's too good a lawyer."
"That'll do it," Silverfox agreed.
"Why did you bring up Orca Pete?" Hardtack asked Silverfox. "Did you meet him in the Harbour or something? We probably need to tell the police."
Silverfox shook her head. Hardtack was giving her good news. The crew of the _Flying Saucer_ were probably covering up the baroque spear gun killing. Perhaps they had taken the body with them. It removed her last, nagging doubt that the _Flying Saucer_ was up to something private but legitimate. She let out a long sigh of relief.
"Just looking at police messages," she said.
"Was there trouble?" Jerry asked, worried.
Silverfox hesitated. If she mentioned the killing, she'd be implicating Jerry and Hardtack in a felony: leaving the scene of a killing. "I got chased out of the water by a couple of divers," she said. "It doesn't look like they called the cops."
"Divers?" Hardtack asked, skeptically. "They had guards suited up and ready to go?"
"I don't know that," Silverfox said. She wished Firefox were here, or Technofox. "Maybe they just got back from a dive, or they were about to go on one." It had only taken them a few minutes. Maybe the whole crew was trained as divers?
That bothered her when she thought about it. They hadn't spent much time wondering what to do once they spotted her. They had a "Frogman in the water" drill and they had carried it out.
It smelled military.
"We have to tell someone," Hardtack stated. "That sounds like intelligence work."
"I agree. We will," Silverfox said, hoping she wasn't lying. "In a way that won't implicate you or me."
"How?" Hardtack asked, exasperated.
"I'm not sure," she admitted. "But I work with smarter people. They'll think of something. They've got contacts in the RCMP. Leave it to us." She hoped that would convince him.
"You should have called," Jerry said. "I could have met you."
"You don't have a car," Silverfox said. "If we met, we'd be two people sneaking into the hotel instead of one."
"True," Jerry admitted.
And more to the point, she thought, she had already leaned too heavily on Jerry. She didn't want this to become a habit. "I should take a shower," Silverfox said.
"Take the gear off in the kitchen," Hardtack said. "Don't want to drip all over the carpet."
"Oh, right," Silverfox said with a bit of alarm. The outside of the wetsuit had dried off, mostly, but her fur had trapped quite a bit.
When Hardtack's back was turned, she silently slipped the Sig P225 to Jerry, who took it wordlessly, checked the safety, and tucked it into his waistband. She didn't want Hardtack to notice the pistol; Jerry would assume she had smuggled it into Canada somehow and didn't want Hardtack to know. He pulled his shirt out of his pants to cover it.
Hardtack helped her out of the oxygen rebreather and rested it against the table. Jerry spread a towel on the table and Silverfox started to strip off parts of her gear, laying them out on the towel. She stripped down to her wetsuit and unzipped it without thinking. Hardtack glanced over and away, a little uncomfortably. Silverfox suspected that he had suddenly noticed she was a woman; there was something gratifying in that. Jerry held a towel to block and wrapped her in it.
The cold hit her and she sprinted to the shower, stepped in, closed the curtain, and indulged herself with a good shake before turning on the hot water. The water came out of the showerhead hot; she wondered how the plumbing managed that. Her shampoo was packed away, but there were two little bottles in the soap dish.
She only spent a few minutes under the hot water, just long enough to warm up and wash away the salt. She turned the water off, shook again, rubbed the walls down and wrapped the last towel around herself. She hoped the guys wouldn't mind reusing a towel in the morning.
She went out and again, Jerry offered her a drink. This time she took it; she tipped it back and felt it slide down, warm and smooth. It was John Powers Gold, Jerry's favorite whiskey.
Silverfox sniffed it and took another tiny taste. She wanted it to last. "I should probably tell my boss I'm okay," Silverfox said. Would Fire and Tech be up and waiting for a report? Very probably.
She brought up her email client. In the background, a window displayed the pictures she that were being sent along. She paused and looked at one. The camera was pointed right up the nostrils of a guy in overalls, staring goggle-eyed down at the lens. He must have been standing over her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before writing her report, hoping she wouldn't be calling them again from jail.
The morning's events had cranked things up a notch or two. She had gathered quite a bit of intelligence, but at the cost of deniability. If she had spotted a dock facility from the water, it was just vaguely possible the police would at least pretend to believe it was a coincidence. But there was no way they could go to the police and claim that Silverfox had just happened to swim under a catamaran while on vacation.
The gun could be traced, but just having it in her possession was illegal. It wasn't enough just to prove that someone was guilty; it had to be done in a way that would result in a conviction. She watched the pictures go by, expression sour. Technofox would have a field day with them, but would they ever appear in court?
"You seem glum," Jerry said.
"You don't get it," she replied. "I was supposed to slip in and out like a shadow's whisper. Not get chased by two divers. Shadowfox is going to mock me for weeks." And she had to admit that rankled.
"It happens," Hardtack said sympathetically. "I'd tell you a similar story, but I've never been to Norway."
Norway was widely considered one of the less willing German satellites. Silverfox nodded seriously.
"Do shadows whisper?" Jerry asked. His shirt was tucked back in; he must have stashed the pistol somewhere.
She sighed. "I'll wash the gear and pack it."
"We already did," Hardtack said. "While you were in the shower."
"You didn't have to do that," she said. She looked over at her computer. It had finished copying the files from her camera, so she took the camera to the kitchenette. She plugged the sink, filled it with warm water and put the camera into it, letting it soak the salt away.
Hardtack shrugged. "It's my gear. No offense, but I'm responsible for it."
She looked around, finally embarrassed into asking. "Where are my pants?"
Hardtack and Jerry glanced at one another uncomfortably, waiting for the other to say something. Hardtack narrowed his eyes a bit, as though to say, "She's your girlfriend."
"Ah, yes," Jerry said. "Your pants. There's an interesting story behind that."
"Does the story end with 'We left them by the harbor?'" Silverfox asked.
"Uhm, yeah. Afraid so," Jerry said. He shrugged. "When the cop showed up, we took Hardtack's luggage, but we forgot about your pants."
"Well," Silverfox said, scratching the back of her neck. "At least I wasn't carrying my wallet." She was sure there wasn't anything identifying in the pants -- she hadn't even brought a hotel key.
"Sorry," Jerry apologized. "You told us not to double back. Want me to run down and get them?"
Silverfox blanched at the thought of Jerry running into that hornet's nest. For all she knew, the crew of _Flying Saucer_ was torturing passersby for information.
"No," she said shortly. "Not until there's a crowd, tomorrow." Victoria had some homeless, she wondered how long a pair of cargo pants with a tail vent would remain folded on the waterfront. She'd trust Technofox to spot trouble and turn back before walking into it, but Jerry was completely untrained.
Lilith had shot Walton and then hung around Atlanta to kidnap Shadowfox. That had gotten her killed. Silverfox wasn't going to make the same mistake. "The pants aren't important," she said. "It's just that they were the only ones I have with me."
She sat down on the couch, between the two of them. She misjudged her trajectory and her tail ended up in Hardtack's lap. Was the whiskey hitting her? Maybe. What the hell.
Hardtack laughed out loud. "Always bring spare pants," he said.
Silverfox nodded. Shadowfox usually brought a pair of emergency pants, and they were able to share. She had no idea how much she relied on the others until she had to rely on herself.
"No biggie," Jerry said. "I can pick up a pair for you tomorrow, before we take Hardtack to lunch."
Silverfox and Hardtack looked at one another and grinned. "Spoken like a human," Silverfox said.
"Don't be mean," Hardtack chided her.
"Obviously the naïve human has said something risible. What am I missing?" Jerry asked.
By way of response, Silverfox turned towards him and swished her tail. "You probably won't find pants with a tail vent off the rack," she said. "Not in a town this small."
"I don't think there's a brick and mortar that stocks them anywhere in Canada," Hardtack explained.
"Not so," Silverfox said. "There's a place in Toronto."
"Really?" Hardtack asked. He shrugged, helplessly. "You might be able to overnight something for the day after tomorrow."
"So I'll buy you a dress," Jerry shrugged. "If you really hate it, you can wear it when you shop for another one."
Silverfox blinked. As far as she knew, he had never seen her in a dress. She wasn't used to turning to other people for help unless their name ended with "-fox." And here, Jerry had come up with the boat idea and this in the course of one week. It felt uncomfortable, as though Jerry was starting to assume the roles she associated with the others. Of course, Andrew was already an exception...
"I can wear a dress. Why didn't you think of that?" Silverfox asked Hardtack.
"Because you're very butch," Hardtack replied, casually.
"He's right," Jerry agreed. "Butcher than butch."
"Don't get me wrong," Hardtack said. "I like butch."
"Not just a guy with boobs, but a double-Y chromo guy with boobs," Jerry said.
"I've heard that term before. What exactly is a guy with boobs?" Hardtack asked.
"It's a very technical term used in literary criticism. A guy with boobs is a female character who does not match the critic's stereotypes of what a woman is really like. It basically means anything you want it to mean, so it's very useful when you find facts don't support your thesis."
"Those English classes really had an effect on you, didn't they?" Silverfox asked. "This and Speed Racer."
"Like Newton and the apple," Jerry said. There was a touch of regret in his voice.
"Cool. Does Silverfox shave?" Hardtack asked, piling another level of absurdity onto an already absurd conversation.
"Nope," Jerry said. "She uses a hammer to drive her stubble back into her face, where she bites them off."
"Oh, like the lumberjack who stirred his coffee with his thumb?" Hardtack asked with a nod, slyly accusing Jerry of ripping off jokes.
"They based that song on her," Jerry explained.
"Wow, that's butch," Hardtack agreed. "I wish I were as masculine as she is. Did she ever shoot a man just for snoring?"
"It was only a paintball," Silverfox said defensively.
"I'm not sure if she's joking or not. But you can see why he couldn't imagine you in a dress," Jerry told her.
"You think I'm butch. Butch?" Silverfox asked archly. "How can you call the butt this tail hangs from butch?" She lifted her tail and thumped it down in Hardtack's lap. He smiled and stroked it absently.
"Sorry," Hardtack said. "We shouldn't gang up on you."
"One more glass of this whiskey and I'd be up for that," Silverfox said.
"Where's the whiskey?" Hardtack asked.
"On it," Jerry said briefly, getting up. He poured her a generous portion.
Silverfox smiled softly and closed her eyes. She always enjoyed having her tail stroked. She turned partway around to straighten out her tail, and lifted her foot to rest it on the couch. He glanced at her and, startled, looked down; Silverfox twitched when she realized she had just exposed herself to him. Her back was on Jerry, and she turned her head to him, with the vague intention of letting him know she wasn't shutting him out, but instead of words she opened her mouth and flicked her tongue over his mouth. He touched the side of her face and kissed her back.
She lifted her arm and the towel wrapped around her gaped open. She shrugged it away and Jerry's hands were on her breasts, and a claw traced her navel and went down ... she gasped as it went across her clitoris. She opened her legs to encourage Hardtack, felt her nipples stiffen as Jerry stroked them.
She sat up and put her hands in their laps, feeling the hardness there, a cock for each hand, she couldn't help but smile at the thought.
"Are you okay with this?" Hardtack asked her.
"Oh, yeah," she said, sealing her assurance by kissing him.
They were touching her and holding her, and she responded instinctively, touching back and tasting whatever was within range of her tongue. She found herself nibbling bare skin, and fur, and she pushed shirts aside for more access. Jerry smelled slightly of sweat; she always associated that fragrance with humans. She was being kissed from two direction and four hands were on her.
Hardtack's pants opened first, she ran her hand along his erection, feeling it hard and urgent. She fiddled with Jerry's belt, irritated at this obstruction, opening it finally. He undid his fly and started to pull his pants off; she stopped him partway down and curled down to lick him lightly, felt him grow harder as his testicles grew tighter.
She liked that so she moved off the couch and went to her knees in front of him; she sensed, rather than saw, Hardtack move around behind her, so she lifted her hips up and spread her legs wider to invite him. She felt his weight over her, touching her but not quite resting on her.
She took Jerry out of her mouth while Hardtack worked into her; she didn't want to risk biting him. Instead, she lightly rubbed her muzzle against his shaft as she gasped, and Hardtack moved gently into her. Soon he was around her and inside her and she closed her eyes and let herself feel it.
Hardtack began to move and she took Jerry into her mouth again, feeling him against her tongue. Because her muzzle was deeper than a mouth, she had no trouble choking or gagging when she took a man that way. Working on a man with her mouth was active and a little difficult; she had to be careful not to use her teeth too much, and that distracted her from enjoying Hardtack filling her from behind, prolonging that experience. In Blue Diamond, some women hated it; she rather liked the challenge and the feeling of having two men inside her at once.
She squeezed Hardtack lightly, and gave Jerry a tiny nip with a canine. She wondered sometimes if that was part of the fun men had when getting oral sex, if being so close to pain added to the pleasure. In a way, she supposed it was a bit like having a large man entering you; you lay under him, knowing that if he pushed hard it would hurt, and wondering if he'd do it. She licked his testicles.
Hardtack was taking it slow. He was holding back, she knew; he wanted to do her hard and fast but he was working to prolong it. Silverfox liked it when lovers showed some generosity. Jerry wasn't in a position to; he was sitting and so more or less entirely at her mercy. He stroked her head, fingers trailing lightly down her back.
Silverfox didn't want Jerry in her mouth when she climaxed; she'd probably bite him off and that would become the subject of gossip. She found herself sliding into an inverted synchrony with Hardtack; getting intent and active with Jerry as Hardtack slacked off, and the other way around. Then Hardtack rested more of his weight on her, and she sensed he was close; she doubled her efforts on Jerry and felt him twitch and gasp and climax into her throat; she sucked gently, took him out, and swallowed as Hardtack drove her head into Jerry's lap. She came, long and intense, and before she was finished felt Hardtack come into her. She thought she heard them kiss one another, but she wasn't sure.
"Wow," she said, finally.
"Silver?" Jerry whispered.
"Mmm?" she replied, waking up. Her face was buried against Hardtack's chest. His arm was over her and embracing Jerry.
"I'm going to the bathroom," Jerry explained.
"M'kay." She turned around and kissed him lightly. "Thanks for telling me." He disentangled himself from Hardtack and stood by the bed. For a moment, doubt flicked across his features.
"Don't worry," Silverfox said. "Having a woman involved sucks the gayness out of any sexual experience. We're like an open box of baking soda."
Jerry grinned widely and choked back laughter. Silverfox smiled at him blearily.
"Is that why watching hot girl-on-girl action isn't gay?" Jerry asked, playing along.
"That's exactly right," she said, nodding, and closed her eyes.
Guys shared women in Blue Diamond a lot, and some of the Blue Diamond Girls wondered if they needed a woman in the room so they could pretend they weren't lovers. She thought only a Blue Diamond Girl would really understand the joke. It was weird, telling a rich human guy the same joke passed between chimera slave women and having him get it.
The thought bothered her. She remembered Blue Diamond, and her own first experiences with men. Was that the same for Jerry as well?
The first time, tied for a client, brought back a revulsion that had gone beyond physical discomfort, no physical sensations but pain and pressure and nausea. She had expected that, although she hadn't anticipated its intensity.
She hadn't expected what followed.
She slept, chained to Master's bed, and he slept with her, naked as she was. His body was pressed against her, but he didn't grope her, he made no move to put it into her. She actually slept well.
She woke up. Master was gone. He left during the night, while she was asleep. But Silverfox wasn't alone. Tigre was there. Somehow, Silverfox knew. Silverfox was never alone. Tigre was always there, when Master wasn't, filling the vacuum of solitude with her presence; tall, powerful, in black leather and chrome studs and buckles, a whip on one hip, a white dildo on the other.
Silverfox was bound, naked and spread-eagled, and she tried to squirm away from Tigre. First, Tigre stood over her, snapped a leash to her collar. She pulled it tight, so it pressed against the back of her neck.
"You get ten," Tigre said. "Do you want fifteen?"
Tigre didn't wait for an answer. One handed, she undid Silverfox's left hand and snapped the cuff onto the leash, repeating with her right. Usually her left arm would be asleep, and Silver would suffer an agony of pins and needles while the circulation restored.
Then Tigre repeated with Silverfox's legs, binding her so her ankles, wrists and throat were all connected by a chain about half a meter long. Silverfox panicked and struggled helplessly.
"Fifteen," Tigre said. She grabbed Silverfox by her collar and one-handed, heaved her onto the floor. Silverfox went to her knees, and aching from the impact, turned as Tigre stepped towards her. Immediately, as though by reflex, Silverfox threw herself down to escape the beating she knew was coming. Tigre stood over her, digitgrade on her toes.
Silverfox licked her foot, pressed her breasts to the floor, and trembled.
Tigre paused. "All right," she said. "Ten." Her whip uncoiled, touched the floor by Silverfox's face.
Silverfox stared at it, and then it raised up, and she closed her eyes before the shock of it landing on her back forced a long hiss of pain out of her.
That day, she had been bound to the wall of a bar, gagged. Men touched her and prodded her, as other women watched and laughed and encouraged them. She didn't have a clear idea of how much time passed.
Tigre came in, stood in front of her, ran her hands lightly over her breasts.
"I had a lot of fun with you," Tigre said. "Maybe Master will let me do you again tonight."
Silverfox closed her eyes.
"Not a word, doggie," Tigre said. "Doggies don't talk. Doggies don't walk on their hind legs. Understand?"
A tiny mouse chimera, barely dressed, was behind Tigre. She held a wide-based bowl in each hand. Water lapped around the edge of one; the other was filled with dry kibble, a strong smell of beef flavor wafted in Silverfox's direction and her mouth watered.
Tigre grabbed the fur on Silverfox's face and shook her painfully. "Understand?" Tigre hissed.
Silverfox nodded. Tigre unchained her from the wall, and removed the gag. She pointed to the floor and Silverfox dropped to all fours. She looked out at the people. One man was watching her, his arm around a collared cat girl, who pressed her body against him. As Silverfox watched, she moved his hand into her shirt and squirmed in pleasure as he fondled her breast. Silverfox wished she was there instead of on the end of Tigre's leash.
Tigre walked her over to a small stage. There were two bowls on the floor.
"Her or me?" Master asked. Tigre was standing behind him, smiling, with eyes Silverfox couldn't meet.
"Master," Silverfox said.
Master looked at her and nodded, and looked thoughtful. "Tonight," he said, "you have to kiss me."
Silverfox looked up. Tigre's lips pulled back in a maybe-grin.
The night after he had played with her breasts, the night after that his hand was between her legs ... the next night she had gone to his bed willingly, had laid down and positioned her hands and legs for the chains. And she had fought the chains on her ankles, straining to wrap her legs around him, to draw him deeper into her...
Their breakfasts arrived at nine. They looked like the sort of meals people ate on television; not merely cooked, but arranged. Silverfox closed her eyes and let the scents fill her sinus. The steak didn't merely sit there, passive, it emitted an aroma that begged her to eat it. She wondered if she had found something to compare to a Shadowfox Breakfast, and was immediately consumed with guilt over the blasphemy.
"We may need to hire two prostitutes for tonight," Jerry said. Silverfox looked up from her breakfast steak inquiringly. Hardtack met her eyes, and looked over at Jerry while sipping coffee through a straw.
"Two breakfasts from room service yesterday, and three today," Jerry explained. "If we order two tomorrow, it'll look suspicious. It's a linear sequence."
"So how long would you have to stay here before everyone in Victoria is your guest?" Hardtack asked.
"Wait a minute," Silverfox said. "What about your first morning here?" Jerry looked guarded as Silverfox considered. She mock-glowered at him. "You came to Victoria the day after I did. And that means that when you were going on about how great the Empress was, you hadn't spent a night there yet."
"You worked it out finally. That's why she's a private security operative," Jerry explained to Hardtack.
"I don't need to think," Silverfox said, nodding seriously. "That's what my teammates are for."
"The stores will be opening up soon," Hardtack said. "I can show you to some of the more obvious places."
"Thanks," Jerry said, rushing a bit with his egg.
Firefox and Technofox hadn't bothered telling her to call them as soon as possible. That was obvious. Instead, they had simply sent a message stating that they would be standing by. She was glad Hardtack would be leaving too; she needed to touch base and she really didn't want to discuss the case with another pair of chimera ears anywhere in the hotel room.
She kissed them goodbye and started her computer. She initiated a video link. They were waiting for her; she hoped they were having lunch. Shadowfox was sharing her desktop and Silverfox opened it up.
It was a picture of Silverfox with a pistol, nose foreshortened so she looked a bit like a bear. Behind her was the guy from _Flying Saucer_, staring down at the camera with huge eyes and a voice balloon that said "I tawt I taw a Thilverfokth!" And over both images, in bold letters:
SILVERFOX -- For Your Covert Investigations.
SWIFT -- like Lightning!
SILENT -- like Thunder!
"Smartass," Silverfox muttered. Briefly, she considered telling Shadowfox that the breakfasts at the Empress were better than hers. No, that would leave her open to an obvious counterstrike.
"Is this your new voicemail greeting?" Firefox asked. Shadowfox laughed in the background.
Silverfox jumped. "Uhm, sorry. Nice image work, Shadow."
Technofox suppressed a snort of laughter.
"Thank you," Shadowfox said modestly.
"What's your condition?" Firefox asked.
"Yellow," Silverfox replied. "I'm alone in the hotel room right now, but we have a guest. Jerry and Hardtack might be back any moment, and when they come back this conversation is over."
"Then we'll front load the important stuff," Firefox said. "Can the crew of the boat identify you?"
"I don't see how," Silverfox replied. "They only saw me briefly, at night."
"What about the police?" Firefox asked.
"The opposition didn't contact the police," Silverfox said.
"I concur," Technofox said. "The police appear to be in the dark. Their daybook has nothing about boarding parties or spear gun battles. And I kind of think that would generate a lot of buzz."
"Then the _Flying Saucer's_ willing to hide one of their own casualties," Firefox said. "Sounds like bad guys to me."
"Probably," Silverfox agreed.
"All right, then," Technofox said. "Let's look at their technology."
It was just like Technofox to phrase it that way. The first picture she brought up was stitched together from multiple images. It showed what was between the two hulls of the _Flying Saucer_ -- this was the first time Silverfox had looked at the information she had acquired. There were drops of water on the lens, blurring and breaking up the image. She saw blocks where people might have been cut out. Maybe Technofox intended to feed this into a rendering program.
"I'm going to be applying stereo photo clinometry to the images," Technofox said.
Silverfox nodded seriously. "Naturally."
"The _Flying Saucer_," Technofox said, "was originally named the _Bernhard Rogge_. She was built in Norway for the Kriegsmarine, and then transferred to SS-Jaeger-Bataillon 502."
Silverfox's jaw dropped open. "That's Nazi Special Forces," she said, stunned into saying the obvious.
"Skorzeny's Own," Shadowfox agreed grimly.
"_Bernhard Rogge_ is one of five similar ships, catamarans designed as floating boathouses. The Cousteau Society's _Circe_ is the same design," Technofox continued. "They use it to support research submersibles. One of the other three was lost, and two remain in service with Jaeger 502."
Silverfox nodded. The history lesson was cool, but probably not important.
"Anyway, three years ago _Bernhard Rogge_ was declared surplus, and sold to Fischer KG, a German film production company. The records state she was demilitarized before being sold, but I'm not sure. Look at the picture. Up here," she said, "you can see a hoist, and two sets of docking gear. That seems to be duplicated on the back."
"She's a tender for covert landing craft?" Silverfox asked.
"Exactly. She's designed to carry up to four auxiliaries. The flush-deck smuggler boat we saw in Seattle would fit under its hull."
"Supposedly, all this was removed when she was demilitarized and turned into a yacht," Firefox said. "Obviously, that didn't happen."
"So Fischer KG is a front?" Silverfox asked.
"Offhand, I'm not seeing why a film production company needs covert landing capability," Firefox said. "But I'm not a domain expert."
"Unless they're working on some underwater epic. We can't tie them directly to the smugglers," Technofox reminded them.
"Maybe," Firefox agreed, "but it's a pretty reasonable assumption. They're either smugglers who bought the perfect boat surplus, or they're Nazi intelligence. If they are connected to the smugglers, I'd guess the former. If they're Nazi intelligence, why would they be smuggling furs?" Firefox took a breath.
"Could be either one," Technofox replied. "The data's inconclusive. Now that I think of it, films aren't a bad way to launder money. Suppose I buy a ticket online. The production company gets about half of it. But suppose I buy a thousand and never show up to see the film? Would anyone even notice that there aren't any bodies in the theater?"
"Probably not," Silverfox agreed. "It's a money transfer with no way to verify that someone actually used the goods. Like mobsters paying Odenberg by downloading his role-playing games."
Technofox probably nodded. "The margin isn't very good, though. The problem is, it costs a dollar to transfer fifty cents through movie tickets...the theater owners get about half --"
"What if you own the theater too?" Shadowfox asked.
"That might be worth pursuing," Technofox said. "Supposedly, Fischer KG uses some sort of funky loophole in the German tax laws to encourage Aryan cinema. I have no idea if there's anything remotely suspicious about their finances --"
Silverfox interrupted before Technofox could continue rambling about the ramifications. It was important stuff but they didn't know how long they had. "What's my next step?"
"You are now a tourist," Firefox said. "Stay away from the _Flying Saucer_. We don't want anyone wondering if you look familiar. Hold onto the gun unless the police seem curious about you. I want to try to get it across the border, but I don't know how yet. If we have to communicate in the clear, I will call the gun 'Elmer's present.' If we are asked, it is a small plaster model of the Victoria town hall."
"Elmer's present," Silverfox agreed. "Plaster model of Victoria's town hall." Which was actually a very pretty building. Maybe she should buy one.
"And don't fire it," Technofox said. "I know you want to, but don't."
Darn.
"This is too big," Silverfox said. "We've got to report this to the RCMP."
"Yes, you're right," Firefox agreed. "Something that might be a Nazi spy ship sitting on a Canadian Naval base? There's no way we can sit on this."
"We can send it along as an anonymous tip to the Canadian Consulate if nothing else," Shadowfox said. "Let me put out some feelers first. I've probably got a friend of a friend in Canadian intelligence."
Silverfox nodded. Hell, if one of Shadowfox's FOAFs had gotten her an oxygen rebreather, anything was possible. But something else was bothering Silverfox and she wanted to bring it up.
"Firefox," Silverfox asked, "did you run into Tawny?"
"No," Firefox said, confused. "Is she around?"
"You didn't?" Technofox asked, surprised.
"No," Firefox repeated. "Why do you ask?"
"You ran a check on her registry code," Technofox explained.
"I did?" Firefox paused. "Can't be. The only Blue Diamond Girl I've checked on recently is Cheshire."
"Why?" Silverfox asked. Was Firefox suspicious of Cheshire? Or was she just doing it by reflex?
"Because of the pelts. Five of the pelts in Seattle were confirmed as belonging to chimerae. Genetically, they mapped to two hundred and fifty different individuals."
"Two hundred fifty three," Technofox corrected.
"Of those two hundred fifty three chimerae," Firefox said, "seventeen were missing -- either dead with no body recovered, or runaways. Of course, I pulled dossiers on those registry codes. One of them was Cheshire's. Unfortunately, she still has her pelt and that leaves sixteen."
"Tech," Shadowfox said, "Silver and I were chatting about this. Tawny is in town. She's obviously using the same registry code as one of those sixteen. This has to mean she's using the registration code of a murdered chimera."
There was a pause as they considered that.
"Maybe they just duplicated the code?" Silverfox asked.
"That's not impossible," Technofox said. "If you can read a digital signal you can replicate it. But it's complicated, and I'm not sure if it would be safe. Suppose you had one guy in San Francisco log the code within an hour of someone else logging the other copy in New York? Any search agent would recognize that as significant. No, they probably took the hardwired code chip out of one chimera's head and put it into Tawny's."
"So Tawny's involved in this?" Silverfox asked, bleakly. Tawny might be a crook, but an accessory to murder?
"Maybe not directly," Technofox said immediately. "Let's suppose you're a human and you murder a chimera. If you sell the pelt, you might sell the registry chip too."
"Logical," Shadowfox muttered.
"The guy who buys it might know the code belongs to an unreported death, but wouldn't necessarily know you murdered her."
Would someone be fooled that easily? Silverfox asked herself. Possibly. A runaway chimera, trying to make a break with her old identity... yes, she might not worry too much about provenance. Self-deception, indifference, fear... any of those would do it.
"Good. Another lead," Firefox said. "Tech, let's pull Tawny's dossier and see if we can't figure out why she had her registration number changed."
"Right," Technofox said, presumably creating a to-do.
"Tawny's a runaway," Silverfox said. "Of course she wants to change her registry number."
"Sure, but not to the registration of another runaway," Firefox pointed out. "Tawny's got something more dangerous in her dossier or she wouldn't bother."
"...Yes," Silverfox agreed, reluctantly.
Something in her tone cut through the digitization, encryption, satellites, and time zones that separated her from the others. "Problem?" Firefox asked.
"I don't know how I feel about getting a Blue Diamond Girl in trouble," Silverfox admitted.
There was a brief pause. "Me either," Firefox agreed. "We'll play it by ear. There's nothing forcing us to rat her out."
Not yet, anyway, Silverfox thought.
"Does anyone have a personal in with Tawny?" Firefox asked.
"Silverfox does," Shadowfox said immediately. "Silver didn't spill the beans about Tawny."
"Think Tawny is likely to bolt?" Firefox asked.
"I don't think so," Silverfox said. "Unless she's being chased by the Yakuza or something."
"And if she is, she'd want some muscle on her side," Firefox said. "All right. Shadowfox, we need to have Tawny over for dinner. Just a reunion of all us Blue Diamond Girls, to catch up and have some fun." Firefox hesitated. "And we better invite Cheshire too. As a guest. Unless there's bad blood between the two of them."
Silverfox hesitated, thinking of Cheshire pointing at the floor. "Show respect," she remembered. "Not that I'm aware of," she said. "Better ask them."
The door opened, and Hardtack and Jerry walked in, carrying bags.
"I can't believe it," Hardtack said. "He found pants in your size with a tail vent."
"Not exactly," Jerry said modestly. "I had them put one in. I told them we were going ziplining this afternoon, and that you hadn't brought any pants." He tossed Silverfox the smaller bag. "While they were altering them, we found that for your friend."
Curious, Silverfox took it out. It was a shirt.
"It's really for her boyfriend," Jerry explained.
Silverfox read the logo: _Having a Wonderful Time in Victoria._ "That's perfect," Silverfox said. "How much do I owe you?"
"We'll settle in Boston." He turned to face Hardtack. "Did you decide on a restaurant?"
"There's an Italian place I've always liked," Hardtack said. He hesitated. "It's a little pricey, though, so I won't hold you to your offer."
Jerry shook his head. "Forget it." He said. "It can't cost more than hiring a diving master and renting equipment."
They left the hotel, and Silverfox couldn't help but scan the Inner Harbour.
"The _Flying Saucer_ is gone," she said.
"Yeah," Hardtack agreed. "So were your pants. They're probably on a homeless guy."
She chuckled. "Suppose he'll know what the tail slit's for?"
"Maybe he'll think it's a buggery port," Jerry suggested.
Silverfox laughed and Hardtack put an arm around her waist and gave her an affectionate squeeze. She returned the one-armed hug.
"Did your pictures come out?" Hardtack asked.
"Yes, and I think they'll help with the investigation." Silverfox looked at the empty dock. She wondered if the _Flying Saucer_ would be back.
Hardtack recommended the manicotti, so Silverfox forwent her usual chicken parmesan. The manicotti did not disappoint. Hardtack was going to bus back to the base, but Silverfox insisted on getting him a cab, and paid for it out of her travelling money. She had barely spent any, and she wondered if that meant they wouldn't get any extra going forward.
Ah well. She didn't feel like fretting over it. "Want to visit the museum?" Jerry asked. He stretched. "I'm kind of looking forward to a quiet day."
"Sure. But in the evening, let's have some fun." She smiled brightly.
"Trespassing, Auto Theft, Assaulting a Police Officer, Public Drunkenness, Disorderly Conduct, and Refusal to Co-Operate with a Police Officer's Enquiries," said Sergeant Prentiss. She looked up at Silverfox with eyes that somehow managed to be both bored and attentive.
"I have a perfectly good explanation, Sergeant," Silverfox replied, respectfully.
A slight twitch went over Prentiss' features. Her skin seemed to be stretched tight, and her face shone slightly with perspiration. "I'd be more than happy to hear it before we start getting official. Just to make sure we're all on the same page, here." Prentiss smiled.
"Yes, Sergeant," Silverfox replied. "May I start from the beginning?"
"I would be most gratified," Prentiss said politely.
"Thank you, Sergeant." Silverfox paused to collect her thoughts. With at least two felonies hanging over her head it was pretty ironic that the police had brought her in over something this trivial. "I believe it all started in the pub. Lieutenant Garson, one of your Naval Aviators, was explaining how a carrier landing was like dropping a plane out of a third story window."
"Imagine that," Prentiss nodded, impressed.
"Alan Piercings --"
"Pearson," Prentiss corrected.
"Pearson, thank you, Sergeant, wasn't impressed and said that he believed his car's shocks could handle that."
"I see," Prentiss nodded. "And you agreed with him?"
"No, Sergeant. But at the time it seemed that an experiment would be the most expeditious way to settle the disagreement."
"Of course," Prentiss agreed.
"Looking back at it now, it seems ill-advised," Silverfox admitted.
"Good."
"However," Silverfox explained, "upon seeing his car, we realized that it was too large to fit into the stairwell."
"So that is why you stole the other car? Because it was smaller?"
"Sergeant," Silverfox said formally, "I was not aware we were stealing the car. Pearson stated that the car belonged to his friend, and that he would accept a trade."
"Is that why you wrote this note on Pearson's car?" Prentiss asked. She looked at the screen. "'TRADE U 4 CAR HOPE OK' with a smiley face in a valentine heart?"
Silverfox realized she had to quash that right away. A valentine heart might be taken as an implication of sexual favors which might get her a solicitation charge. "I did write the note, Sergeant. However, that is not a heart. It's a little fox. See? Those are the ears."
"Oh, I see, and there's the nose." Prentiss nodded. "Yes, that's a fox. And why did you write the note, instead of Pearson?"
"We agreed that that I was less impaired than the others, and would phrase it better. So the owner of the vehicle would be more likely to go along with the trade," Silverfox explained.
"Oh, and it shows. That was a very eloquent note."
"Thank you, ma'am. So after we made the trade, we noticed that there was a multi-level parking garage across the street, and that we could just push Pearson's new car up to the third level."
"Push it up?" Prentiss repeated.
"Yes, Sergeant." Silverfox nodded seriously. "Driving under the influence is a felony in Canada."
"Of course." Prentiss looked down at her keyboard and pressed a button. Silverfox suspected she was marking off the auto theft charge -- it would be extremely hard to prosecute Silverfox for that given the circumstances.
"When we got the car up to the third level of the garage, we built a sort of a ramp to take it over the railing," Silverfox explained. "Is this the basis of the trespassing charge?"
"Yes," Prentiss said.
"With respect, Sergeant, in my opinion the charge is without merit. As we pushed the car to the entrance, the gate came up. If you look in my personal effects you will find the parking ticket. Since I kept it, I clearly intended to pay."
"You were going to pay on your way out?" Prentiss asked, disbelieving.
"I will so testify in court, Sergeant. The arresting officer did not afford me the opportunity to pay the ticket."
Prentiss looked at something on screen. "Amazing. The arresting officer used that as part of the resisting arrest charge." Prentiss tutted sympathetically, and she made a note on her computer. "Then what happened?" Prentiss asked.
This bit became tricky. Silverfox didn't know if Jerry had been caught or not, and if he had somehow escaped capture she didn't want to imply she knew names. How to handle it with the proper vagueness? "One of us became concerned that the car might not land on its suspension. Pearson entered the vehicle, and said that he would steer it on the way down."
Prentiss looked up, suddenly alarmed. "He did?"
"Yes, Sergeant." Silverfox took a deep breath. "Before I go on, I insist on saying that when Pearson mentioned he was a police officer, I assumed he didn't live in Victoria. He's Australian, isn't he?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Anyway, Sergeant, I said his intention of riding the car down was ill-advised, and words were exchanged."
"You were sober enough that you knew there was no way for him to steer the car while in free fall?"
"Regrettably, no," Silverfox admitted. "At the time, it seemed like a good idea. However, I was concerned that Officer Pearson might not pass a sobriety test. I take traffic rules very seriously, Sergeant."
"Yes, of course," Prentiss said sympathetically.
"So I prevailed upon Officer Pearson to leave the vehicle."
"And that's how you assaulted a police officer?" Prentiss asked.
"To the best of my recollection, that was the only time I laid hands on him. Is there a discrepancy between my testimony and Pearson's?" That would be par for the course, Silverfox thought. Bested in a tussle, off-duty cop claims criminal assault out of spite --
"Not exactly, no," Prentiss admitted. "Pearson did not say he was struck."
"With respect, Sergeant, what is the basis for the proposed charge?"
"He has a broken nose and his blood was on your knuckles." Prentiss frowned. "I don't think he felt it until after he was sobered up."
Well, Silverfox reflected, she couldn't argue the point. The last time something like this had happened she rubbed the blood over her hands and claimed to have been rendering aid. "So Officer Pearson has declined to bring charges?"
"As I said, this is an informal chat. No charges have been filed. Yet." Prentiss was probably comparing testimony, looking for a way to push this all under the carpet. She probably didn't want Pearson up on charges. All Silverfox had to do was provide her a tenuous straw of justification and she'd probably grab it. Ideally, it should also get Silverfox released.
"Anyway, I extracted him from the vehicle." Silverfox paused. "Someone, whose name I cannot recall, went down to confirm there was nobody on the sidewalk, and we performed the experiment."
"I see. Was it successful?"
"My understanding is that the suspension failed." The car had landed on its wheels, weighed down by the capacitor packs in the bottom. "We were taken into custody soon after that."
"I see."
"Out of curiosity, have you contacted the car's owner?" Silverfox asked.
"Amazingly enough, yes," Prentiss said. "He works nights. And he is Pearson's friend." She looked at the screen. Relief touched her features. "And he has said he will not press charges." That must have just come over.
"So that would leave public drunkenness and disorderly conduct," Silverfox said.
"And refusal to co-operate with the police."
"Regarding public drunkenness, I was arrested on private property."
"Technically," Prentiss agreed.
"However, I agree that heaving a car three stories might fall under disorderly conduct."
"Littering, also. What about refusing to co-operate with the police?"
"I'm here, Sergeant," Silverfox said politely. "How have I failed to co-operate?"
"You gave your home address as ... 'Somewhere in the Perseus Arm of the Milky Way Galaxy," Prentiss said, after glancing at the screen.
"Ah," Perseus Arm? What the hell was the Perseus Arm? "Last afternoon I saw an exhibit at the Royal BC Museum --"
"Me too. I agree this is accurate, but it lacks precision." Prentiss looked at her.
They had her cold. "I concur, Sergeant. I will be glad to apologize to the officer --"
"However, we scanned your chip and got your address, so I think we can let that slide." Sergeant Prentiss rubbed her nose. "Well, your story matches most of what I've heard from other people."
"Most?" Silverfox asked.
Prentiss looked up. "Jerome Shayler turned himself in to a patrol officer, saying he assaulted Pearson in a bar. Shayler's knuckles were badly bruised, but there wasn't any of Pearson's blood."
Bruised his knuckles? How had he done that? "Mister Shayler is probably confused," Silverfox said, her mouth a little dry, trying not to look too worried.
Prentiss looked at her steadily for a moment. She turned away and smiled. "I think he probably punched a wall to back up his story. Like he was protecting someone, or trying to."
Silverfox swallowed.
"What to do, what to do..." Prentiss said meditatively. "You're leaving Canada on Saturday?"
"Yes, Sergeant."
"Well, you see my problem." Prentiss leaned back and looked thoughtful. "Tossing a car out of a parking garage goes well beyond the tolerated touristy hijinks."
"Yes, Sergeant," Silverfox agreed.
Prentiss set her face on neutral. "On the other hand, I am an incurable romantic, and tonight was the first time I saw Pearson laugh out loud since his wife died last winter."
"I didn't know," Silverfox said, a little shocked. "I'm sorry to hear that."
Prentiss shrugged. "Thank you. And you probably kept him from killing himself by riding the car down. Did I say something funny?" Prentiss asked sharply, looking up.
Silverfox shook her head desperately. She had a vivid memory of the car's windows bursting out on impact, and Pearson looking at her solemnly.
"Wow," he had said. "It steered itself." He had then patted her head, in mute thanks.
"You're a private security operative," Prentiss said.
"Yes, Sergeant."
"And Pearson is a good cop."
"I can believe it, Sergeant."
"Do you promise to stay out of bars until you're back in Boston?" Prentiss asked.
"Yes, Sergeant."
Prentiss nodded. "So let's leave it at that."
"That's extraordinarily generous of you, Sergeant."
"I know. Enjoy the rest of your stay, but not that much."
Silverfox nodded her head. "Yes, Sergeant."
"Feeling okay?" Silverfox asked.
Jerry looked down at his bandaged hand. "Swell."
"How did you hurt your hand?" she asked.
"I'm not sure," he lied. "I must have had a good time, though." He stretched. "I've got to say I feel pretty good. They gave me a shot or something to make me coherent, and it seems to have prevented a hangover. You?"
"I feel great. Maybe this is a good way to avoid hangovers."
"Get arrested?" Jerry asked, pretending to take it seriously.
"Excuse me one minute," Silverfox said. "I need to check my email."
Technofox had sent her a message: David would meet her for lunch in the Dining Room in Butchart Gardens at 1300, and he had agreed to take Elmer's present back to Seattle with him. It was a bit before 1000. Plenty of time.
"Jerry," Silverfox said, "I'm supposed to meet another operative in Butchart Gardens this afternoon."
He nodded. "Right. I'll go on a whale watch or something."
Silverfox almost nodded in reply. "No," she said. "I'd rather we both went. I owe you lunch at least."
Jerry smiled. "Sure. I've always wanted to see Butchart Gardens."
"Swell. I just have to swing by the hotel room. He's taking my pistol across the border."
There were more flowers there than she had ever seen before; and no two smelled exactly alike.
"Enjoying yourself?" Jerry asked.
"Yes, I am," Silverfox agreed, guiltily. Was he bored? He didn't seem to be. "I didn't think this would be as cool as it is."
"I'm glad," Jerry said. "When did we have to meet your friend in the restaurant?"
She had her nose deep in some trillium and was about to reply when she was interrupted by a buzz from her cell phone. Annoyed, she looked at the caller ID, and tapped her ear set with a helpless shrug to Jerry.
"Yes, Technofox," she said. "I'm here with Jerry and I know that we're meeting David for lunch." She rolled her eyes and Jerry chuckled. It was a little exasperating -- she had plenty of time. "And I know I'm flying home tomorrow," she couldn't help but add.
"You're not flying home tomorrow," Firefox corrected her. They must be using a conference call.
Silverfox frowned, and Jerry looked concerned. "I'm not flying home tomorrow?" Silverfox said, keeping Jerry in the loop.
"No," Technofox said. "You're taking Kenmore Air to Everett tomorrow afternoon. I'm sending your itinerary."
"So you want me to go to Everett. Something came up?" Silverfox asked.
"We have a new contract," Firefox said. "We will be assisting Inspector Nishinobu in that smuggling case we left half-finished a couple of weeks ago."
"Oh, yeah," Silverfox said. "I remember that one." Firefox seemed to think they might be overheard. "What happened?"
Firefox explained. "A flush deck smuggling boat similar to the one we ran into in Seattle was found a few miles from the naval base at Everett. The crew apparently abandoned it."
Silverfox was silent. Did her appearance under the _Flying Saucer_ spook them that much? Apparently, badly enough that the _Flying Saucer_ had called off operations in these waters. They had even abandoned a flush-deck boat. If so, she thought, that was excellent. Just by showing up, she had cost them at least tens of thousands of dollars.
Of course, that implied that _Flying Saucer_ had been supporting more than four flush-deck boats. She wondered how many had been scuttled in deep water.
"We'll meet in Everett tomorrow evening and examine the boat on Sunday." Firefox paused. "Technofox will send you a dossier. Enjoy the rest of your vacation, but read it before we meet."
"That's good news," Silverfox said, grinning, mostly for Jerry's benefit. "I wanted this contract."
"Me too," Firefox said. "Let's solve this one."
"We usually do," Silverfox said, elated over the damage she had already inflicted.
"Atta girl."
"Oh, I haven't passed on Elmer's present yet," Silverfox said. "Does this change that?"
"No, let's stick to the plan," Firefox said. "David's going to see Elmer before we do."
Silverfox nodded to herself. Firefox was being very careful in the way she was talking. "Okay," Silverfox said. "Jerry and I will say hi to David for you."
"Jerry's with you?" Firefox replied, a bit nonplussed. "Thanks -- say hi to Jerry and David for me."
Silverfox passed on the second-hand greeting, closed her eyes, and put her snout back in the trillium.
The Dining Room was terribly misnamed. Silverfox had expected a diner, not a formal restaurant. The tablecloths were white linen and there were more forks on their table than in Foxforce's apartment. David had beaten them there, but the waiters ushered them to him quickly. None of the customers were dressed up, but despite that Silverfox felt like a disheveled barbarian.
"Jerry," Silverfox said, "this is David Torrance. We worked with him recently in Atlanta. David, this is Jerry Shayler."
"David," Jerry said, shaking his hand.
"Jerry," David grinned. "I'll try not to use any pronouns."
"Heh," Jerry forced a laugh, as though he had heard that one before.
"I don't get it," Silverfox said amiably.
"It's a nerd joke," David said. "Shayler Disambiguation. One of the three core concepts behind machine intelligence." He looked at the appetizers. "Split some wings?" he asked.
"Is that what you did?" Silverfox asked Jerry, surprised.
"Yeah," Jerry said briefly.
Well, Silverfox thought, that probably explained the penthouse. Anything that was important enough to be a nerd joke was probably valuable.
David hesitated, and looked up from the menu. "Seriously," David said. "You're that Jerome Shayler?"
"Yes. And the wings sound good."
David looked up, stunned. "You're shitting me," he said, caught by surprise.
Jerry shook his head. "I like wings."
"I'm sorry," David said. He laughed and covered his mouth. "Christ, I'm in nerdvana here."
"So do you work for the same company Silverfox does?" Jerry asked.
"Huh? Yes. So is the story about the dervishes true?"
Jerry paused for a moment. "More or less," he said. "I was in college, in a very boring English class, and I had this mental image of two Whirling Dervishes spinning around and their costumes overlapping slightly."
"And from there you came up with a data matching algorithm?" David asked eagerly.
"Right. And I used the idea to improve the AI of the enemy in a computer game I was working on," Jerry said. "So what do you do?"
Silverfox wasn't the most observant person in the universe, but she realized Jerry was reluctant to talk about it. She doubted it was modesty, not him. "David, Jerry knows I work for ICON," she said, hoping to change the subject.
That seemed to get through to David. "I'm in virtual investigations. I look for criminal activity on web pages."
"I didn't know the web was a bad neighborhood," Jerry replied. "What sort of thing do you investigate?"
"I work on a lot of smuggling cases," David said seriously.
"And in Atlanta he pretended to be my boss," Silverfox explained.
That kept the conversation going through soup and main course.
"It's too bad you're just in Victoria for the day," Jerry said.
David nodded. "It's a lovely town. I really envy you two having time up here."
Silverfox passed him a package. "That's for Elmer," she said.
David took it with a nod. He knew it contained the Sig 225 she had found. Silverfox wasn't sure how he was going to get it back to the US, but that wasn't her problem. She hoped he wouldn't get in trouble.
The hot water ran down over them, as Silverfox pressed her muzzle against his lips in a long, slow, kiss.
"You've been great," Silverfox told Jerry. She turned off the shower and wrapped her arms around him. "You're leaving on Sunday, right?"
"Right."
"I wish I didn't have to leave tomorrow."
Jerry shrugged. "You don't," he reminded her. "One word from you."
"My friends need me," she said. She wanted to talk to him about what was bothering him in the restaurant, but she didn't know how to begin.
"Ah." Jerry smirked at her. "I don't suppose you'd like to show your gratitude?" he asked.
"Yes," she said seriously. "Yes, I would. You lucky devil." She grinned and snapped him with a towel.
She shook hands with him before climbing onto the floatplane. She closed the door, and felt the latch connect. She was struck by how light and cheap the construction of the plane seemed to be. She was used to airliners and automobiles, both of which were built more heavily than a floatplane. When she closed the door she could see the door shudder and a ripple spread through the skin. She had no doubt the material was tough, but it didn't seem tough.
The inside was tight as three people in a back seat built for two. The engine kicked over and a guy on the dock undid the ties. The floatplane started to move.
"Ever flown on a floatplane before?" the pilot asked.
"One takeoff," Silverfox replied. "Landed on my own."
He laughed at her joke.
Silverfox paced the hotel room. She had wanted to meet the others at the airport, but they had said it would be faster to come directly to the hotel room. The blinds were up, because the view of the ocean was quite nice, and she wanted them to see it when they came in. She fussed with the ice and sodas she had bought them, and the cold chicken in case they were hungry. The sun was down, but the stars were lovely. She wanted everything to be perfect for them.
Technofox bounced through the hotel room door and into Silverfox's arms. Her tail thrashed so violently that her whole body convulsed, clutching her tightly. Almost instantly, Shadowfox and then Firefox joined her, squeezing Silverfox so tight she could barely breathe. She didn't mind. Their jaws gaped in wide canine grins, sniffing happily, content to just feel the presence of one another. The door closed itself softly.
They didn't talk, not really; they uttered snatches of in-jokes and giggled happily at one another. They didn't need words. Silverfox found her face was wet.
They didn't bother to unpack. They stripped for the night and crowded together in one bed, so excited with the joy of reunion that they didn't even have sex; they pressed together, innocent as puppies, and truly comfortable for the first time in a week, Silverfox fell asleep.
Silverfox woke up, feeling bleary and confused. She was alone. No. Firefox was standing next to the bed, arms folded, expression worried, Technofox at her side, afraid and stricken. Silverfox tried to ask what was wrong, but her tongue didn't work. She put her hand out, and Shadowfox gripped it strongly.
Everything was blurred. Even sounds, smells, seemed to blend into one another.
"Um da?" Silverfox said. She was vaguely aware that her words were wrong. They weren't words, but it seemed like they should be, as though she was expressing herself in a pre-Babel language.
Silverfox noticed she was wearing clothes. She was certain that her last sensation had been fur against fur. Had she dressed herself while asleep?
Had she been hurt?
Firefox grabbed her hand and looked at her, angry. "Five times six," she snapped.
Silverfox knew the answer was important, because Firefox was mad at her for not answering. "Thirty," Silverfox replied.
Firefox held up her hand, "How many fingers?"
"Three." Yes, her vision was getting sharper.
Firefox started to relax. Technofox covered her mouth, closed her eyes, broke down and cried. Shadowfox stepped around and hugged the little technician. Silverfox wanted to assure Technofox that she was okay, but her mind was too foggy.
"How do you feel?" Firefox asked.
"Tired," Silverfox said. "Can I go back to sleep?"
"In a little bit," Firefox said. "What is your name?"
"Silverfox."
"What is your model?"
"Reynard 10 Vix-dix."
"What is your passphrase?" Firefox asked.
"My passphrase is privileged information which I am not to share," Silverfox replied.
"What is your part of my passphrase?" Firefox asked.
"I am not to reveal my part of your passphrase except in the event of your incapacity," Silverfox replied. "What the fuck is going on?"
"Back to sleep?" Shadowfox suddenly asked. Firefox looked startled, as though she had missed something obvious.
"Were you asleep?" Technofox asked.
Silverfox looked at the hotel blinds. The sun was shining on them. They were to the west. Evening? She checked the time on her implant.
"Eighteen twenty on Sunday?" Silverfox asked, baffled. "I slept through the day?" She got up. The world tilted and she almost fainted.
"Slept through the day?" Technofox asked.
"Silver," Shadowfox said slowly. "What's the last thing you remember?"
"Going to sleep," she said, starting to feel frightened. "Did something happen? Did I have a stroke or something?"
"Going to sleep where?" Shadowfox asked.
"Everett. The hotel in Everett. You guys just showed up and we went to sleep." Silverfox hesitated. "Didn't we?"
"Remind you of anything?" Shadowfox asked, bitterly. She turned her back and stared at the wall.
"Okay." Firefox sat down on the other bed. "Silverfox, it's Sunday evening. The day after we met in Everett. We spent the day looking at the flush deck smuggling boat."
"Do you remember that?" Technofox asked, a little helplessly.
Silverfox was trying not to panic. "I remember hearing about the flush deck boat. I don't remember seeing it."
"In the boat," Firefox said, "we found these." She put a small device down on the bed. Silverfox picked it up.
It was a small plastic box, transparent, with circuits and buttons. There was a light carabineer clasp on it, so it could be locked onto a ring, and a Velcro patch.
"What is it?" Silverfox asked.
Technofox hesitated. "Well ... it transmits a code to a cerebral implant. If your implant accepts it, it runs a subroutine in the firmware of your cerebral implant."
"And we decided to see what it would do?" Silverfox asked calmly. "You let me accept the code from the device, so we could see what it would do? To my brain?"
"Yes," Technofox said.
"Tech," Silverfox pleaded. "Why in the name of bleeding Jesus did this strike us as a good idea?"
"Well --" Technofox started.
"I mean, what the hell do we do next?" Silverfox asked, aghast. "'Look at this strange blue pill. Let's see what it does to Silverfox!' What made us think this was smart?!"
"You volunteered," Technofox said.
"Since when have you guys been dumb enough to listen to me?" Silverfox asked. "Christ on a crutch, the first time you guys take my advice and it's to set off random electrodes in my cerebral cortex?"
"You said something about how you had less brain to damage," Shadowfox said.
"That's true, you know," Technofox nodded. She blanched. "I mean, it's true you said it. And we tested it on you because Doctor Clayton told us not to screw around with it."
Silverfox stared at her. "So the reason we used tested this thing on my brain was that our doctor told us not to use it."
"It's actually kind of funny if you think about it," Technofox said, as though not entirely convinced by herself.
"Silverfox," Firefox said. "Here's the high points. When we sent the police forensics report to ICON, Doctor Clayton ordered us back into the hotel. Technofox stole one of these gadgets before we came back here."
She let that sink in.
"He's never done that before," Silverfox said.
"Exactly," Technofox said. She lifted the device.
"Once this thing establishes a link with your cerebral implant," Technofox said, "it sends command 4094 to the implant's firmwear. The implant then stimulates parts of your brain. That means that command 4094 is part of the development kit that people use to write stuff like virtual vision interfaces or whatever."
"With you so far," Silverfox said. "If it's part of the kit, that means it can't be harmful. They're not going to put something dangerous in our firmwear."
"Harmful to whom?" Shadowfox asked.
"Harmful in the sense that it stops your heart, or kills you outright," Technofox said. "That's why you were willing to let us use it on you."
"Okay," Silverfox said, nodding, somewhat mollified. "What does 4094 do?"
"It's an undocumented feature," Technofox said.
"It's pretty obvious," Shadowfox said softly. "It puts us to sleep, and wipes out any memories since the last time we went to sleep."
"It's our reset button," Technofox said quietly.